The Closest We Can Get
by jstkmbr
Summary: "Always Needed, Newly Wanted" reboot, COMPLETE! Batman almost dies and Joker decides he cares for the other man more than he originally thought and takes him home. Bruce tries to deal with the aftermath and has to decide what the Joker means to him. B/J, OFC, (supporting) character death, angst, BDSM, dub/con, torture, strong language and slight OOC.
1. Author's Note

AUTHORS NOTE

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This is a Batman/Joker slash fic that I started YEARS ago under a different pen name and title (Always Needed, Newly Wanted). I lost access to that account and never finished the story. I want to apologize to those loyal readers who had to put up with me just disappearing.

I want to explain the OOC and OFC: I tried to rationalize Joker and Batmans sexual relationship and in that way I made them slightly OOC but the characters are not totally out of character by any means. I tried to keep them as true to the Nolanverse as I could. Ones still a crazy Psycho and the other is a gruff hardass. In my need to make this as believable as possible I also introduced an OFC who helps define the B/J relationship. She is designed to help make this story a little less PWP and more believable. This is a B/J fic, not a Bruce/OFC fic.

NO BETA, sorry.

I'm not asking for reviews for this fic since it literally took me years to finally complete. I don't deserve them. My advice to you all: Only search for completed stories. Authors are assholes.

Please read the WARNINGS for each chapter as they vary in ratings and content.

I would also like to take the opportunity to define some acronyms. Most fanfiction veterans know the meanings but I don't want any newbies to read my warnings and not know what they mean and get offended so below I have defined the acronyms I will be referencing in this specific story.

If you don't know the meaning of an acronym or slang, (in any fic) always look that shit up. I got a serious shock when I finally found out what the fuck g!peen means.

Dub/con: Dubious consent of sex; not quiet rape but not consensual either, usually both parties end up enjoying the sexual activity.

BDSM: Bondage, Dominance, Sadism, Masochism; or sometimes Bondage, Dominance, Slave, Master. When this acronym is used it usually implies elements of pain in sex, if the fic only has bondage the warning will usually just say "bondage".

OFC: Original Female Character; a female character the authors designs and throws into the story.

OOC: Out Of Character; cannon characters are written out of character, usually to the extreme (emotional, violent, smart, etc.…)

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ENJOY


	2. The Resecue

The Rescue-Chapter One

**Warnings:** Chapter one is rated PG-13 for mention of homoerotic themes if you squint. Following chapters will have more adult content.

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Joker swayed back and forth on his butt while holding the toes of his shoes as he over looked the old church he had wired to blow. This rag-tag chapel, one of the oldest in Gotham, had become the cities pride and joy. The community had pulled together to restore the dingy thing. It was reopening tomorrow, after it went up in flames, of course.

"Sure..." Joker deepened his voice and stuck out his paste covered chin, "some paint and pews and some gasoline and a match...as good as new!" He fell back laughing and kicking his feet in the air like a mad man. A timer went off on his wrist alerting him the building had three minutes until combustion. "I shoulda brought some popcorn, I should have." He mused to himself and looked down at the street below; he was sitting on the ledge of the adjacent building to the church.

"Could it be?" The Clown Prince of Crime batted his eyelashes and looked up to the sky. The Bat signal. "Yes, yes, yes! The Batman will be making an appearance tonight, folks!" He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted down to the empty street. "Batman came to see my fireworks!"

Joker slipped back into his head as he waited for the vigilante. He imagined the days before he adorned the white makeup and before Batman. Before the vigilante Joker was alone, purposeless.

Even before the paint, before the scars, people looked at him differently. Not that he really cared what they, what society, thought of him—_strange was all the rage_—but the solitude was agonizing. It's no fun to laugh alone. So he made them laugh! He made them laugh with noxious gas and fear and for a few seconds he didn't feel so alone.

But when they giggled and twisted in maddening terror, Joker knew that those normal people, those Joe's and Jane's, they weren't like him. He couldn't talk to them, couldn't relate to them, there was no one to laugh with! There was no one to stand next to him on the outside. That all changed when The Bat Man flew out of the skies to wrestle bring horror into honor again. It was like the demonic-looking hero was God-send just for Joker.

Finally! Another weirdo, another freak! But the vigilante had morals. Bah, he had a bad case of denial, that's what he had. Batman refused to see how perfectly he and the Clown Prince fit together, how they needed one another. When the hero realize that he was alone, too, that no one would understand him like Joker does, then they could really be together.

The roar of an engine snapped Joker back into reality and out of his deep thoughts to the task at hand. Batman had arrived! Just in time too, with only 40 seconds to spare.

"SO glad you could join me!" Now Joker was lying leisurely on his stomach propping his head up with his elbows and kicking his feet in the air. He looked as if he were watching TV.

"The bomb, Joker, where is it?"

The purple suit wearing clown frowned. _'Always strictly business, always so serious!' _"Well I'm afraid you're too late. You see that building over there." He pointed a long finger with a pout to his face. "It's scheduled to blow in, oh I donno...30 seconds." Even from his perch above the Bat Joker could see the other man's eyes pop open in surprise.

Batman's cape flapped as he turned and charged into the church.

Joker blinked, dumbfounded, before his heart clenched in fear. "Lunatic! I said 30 seconds, not 3 minutes, you don't have the time!" Being resourceful he found a drain pipe screwed into the side of the building and slid down it with some difficulty. "What does he think he's going to do, anyways?" Joker screeched to himself and made his way toward the time bomb of a church. He started to laugh menacingly at the irony of the situation. Batman was a fool for storming into a soon-to-explode-church and Joker was a bigger fool because he was chasing Batman into the same death trap, and for what? Just so he would never be alone? That's pathetic. He laughed harder.

His hand was on the door knob and everything went white with heat and light. Joker flew back five feet and hit a garbage can like a bowling ball striking a row of pins. His vision was shaking and he didn't really feel his wobbly legs moving toward the flaming mess of a church that was, somehow, still standing.

He could not hear the cracking of the wooden roof as flames licked at it from all sides, and Joker could not hear the sounds of the fire truck making its way toward them. He could, however, feel the paint on his face getting warmer and slide down his cheeks and forehead as he stumbled closer to the wreckage; he could feel the worry churning in his gut. _'Alone? Again? Nononono, he can't be dead!' _

He was working more or less on autopilot, the fire was spinning now and the scene vaguely reminded him of a fun house.

The mad man staggered into the flaming threshold. "Where, oh where, has my Bat gone? Oh where, oh where can he beeeee?" His singing was full of ache and was not laced with its usual full-hearted insanity.

Joker spun around wearing a frown, his arms spinning at his side in an attempt to save his balance, and he caught a glimpse of a black mass on the floor, under debris. "Damn it." A smoldering wooden bench from the row of pews was smothering Batman. He seemed to be dead, or possibly unconscious, but either way the caped man wasn't moving.

Weary of the quickly collapsing ceiling, Joker slid into the room and avoided being touched by any groping flames. He leaned down to examine his fallen Bat and tried to pull him out from under the heavy piece of kindling. It was not working. This time the whole building moaned and cracked as if the frame were going to snap any second, and Joker heard it.

Joker placed his palms on the burning wood and pushed against the flaming bench. He hissed as the fires burned through his purple gloves and blistered his hands. "Grahh!" With one final exertion of force the Clown Prince had shoved the pew away.

Thankfully, Batman had fallen on his cape and his feet were pointing toward the back door, otherwise there was no way the smaller man would have been able to move the Bats heavy body. Joker snatched up the bottom of the cape, wrapped it around the fallen mans legs and dragged Batman out of the dying church. He ignored the prickling sensation stabbing his blistered hands as he squeezed the cape along.

The back door was locked, and on fire, was there no end to this maze? The green haired man groaned in frustration and slight panic as he began to wheeze from the lack of oxygen. Joker threw himself at the door. His shoulder smacked against the burning sealed exit, once, twice, three times and it burst open.

Relief came in rolling blows of cool oxygen rich air as he came stumbling out of the hell house. Coughing now he hunched over to listen for, yes, it was still there, Batman was breathing. Hopefully he didn't breath in too much of the smoke? Joker used the last bit of his strength to pull the Bat away from the wreckage and into the car he'd stolen two days earlier. Without a second to spare the heaving criminal peeled out leaving the fiery scene in his rear view mirror as the fire trucks started to circle the building.

He sighed heavily, stopping at a traffic light. Even though there was no traffic and all of the police in the city were currently surrounding the church he'd just blown sky high, Joker still stopped at the red light. He twisted his lithe torso around to face his enemy. Joker leaned in closely. "Don't scare a person like that, Batsy!" He shouted and rocked back and forth in his seat. He was high strung now and ready for round two. "Wha_t_ am I going to do with you?"

Joker found himself wanting to reach out and touch the caped crusader, and why not? Who was going to stop him? The Clown Prince gingerly reeled his hand toward the other man's face, eager to feel skin on skin. He gently pressed his finger tips to the smooth pink flesh of Batman's bottom lip and gasped at the softness he could feel even through blistered hands. Joker whined. He wanted more...but this wasn't the right place or time. "You're coming home with me, Batsy!"

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THANK YOU


	3. Let's Make A Deal

Lets Make A Deal-Chapter Two

**Warnings:** Chapter two is rated NC-17 for explicit sexual themes between two men, language, BDSM, and dub/con.

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Joker always kept a staff of young thugs on hand, so when he pulled up to the old plane hangar he was currently using, he had two of them carry the Bat inside.

"Be gentle." Joker was a bit anxious after all that had happened and kept swiping his tongue over his mouth nervously. "Do you know what I had to go through just to make sure he got here?" He was shouting orders and threats left and right.

A nameless, brainless, thief with oil smudges on his face and bulging arms more grunted than said, "He's strapped down, boss," and leaned against the iron door awaiting further orders.

"Good, good." Joker was painfully pushing on a new pair dark purple gloves. He didn't want anyone to notice the nasty blisters. It was always bad to show weakness to men like this.

"Now, do me a favor and, uh, get lost? Eh?" He stood hunched over, neck sunken in and toiling with a kitchen knife. "In fact, I think that it might be best if, all of you left. Go have some _fun,_ don't do anything I wouldn't do, and don't come back. I'll call _you_." He pointed the short yet sharp implement in his hired hands direction. "Bu-bye, now!"

The brutes hurriedly fled the room.

**XiiX**

A terrible wheezing noise—God, was that his breathing—woke Bruce from a dead sleep. His chest hurt with each rise, as if a weight were on his lungs. Did he break a rib? His head was throbbing like the inside of a drum and he opted to keep his eyes tightly shut for the moment. The crime fighter didn't remember a thing and searching in his computer-like brain was only aggravating his headache. Last night was a fragmented blur—Joker, or maybe a fire? He could not remember.

Something faint, and light, was tickling his chest. A cold finger was tracing around his right nipple. Someone shifted on top of him—Bruce snapped his eyes open.

"Hi there, sleepy head!" Joker smiled down at him while sitting on his groin and still toying with the exposed flesh.

Bruce was horrified. The vigilante sprang up at a more erect angle and tried to bring his hands up to shove the clown off him but found that he couldn't move. Both arms were bound at the wrist via rope and his legs bound in a similar fashion around the table legs holding him up. He was also nearly naked. He was defenseless without his armor.

A malevolent purple caught his eye suddenly. It was a massive rectangular bruise covering the entire length of his torso and undoubtedly causing the pained breathing. Bruce began to panic silently. He realized his cowl was still on and panicked a little less. "Joker. What-" He was cut off by a gloved finger being pressed to his lips.

"Shush now! I've been rehearsing this." He cleared his throat with a bound fist over his scarred mouth. "You're wondering why, uh, you're here, half naked, tied to a table with little Ole' me sitting on top of you?" He made a sympathetic face and nodded up and down as he spoke.

Bruce glared but stayed quiet, deciding it was probably best to humor the Clown Prince rather than bite his finger. The longer Joker talked the longer he had to figure out how to escape.

"Well, you see, uh, you ran into a building that, like I said would, exploded with you in it!" The man shouted and shook his free arm in the air above his green head and coincidently added friction between their hips. Bruce ignored it. "And _I _was kind enough to drag you out. I, uh, saved your life." Joker removed his finger, curious of what the Bat might say.

Bruce was silent for a moment. His brain was spinning, searching the archives for an answer, any recollection, a memory of any kind from last night. He vaguely recalled seeing the bat signal...Gordon informed him—the church. He remembered arriving at the chapel. But that was all; nothing else registered.

"Why?" Bruce didn't care why, not really. He just needed to keep the other man busy. How long had he been gone? Alfred would activate the GPS on his utility belt if he wasn't home by sunrise. Suddenly the millionaire felt sick with guilt. Alfred would be worried and it was entirely his fault.

"You mean that beautiful brain hasn't figured it out, yet?" Joker shrieked and clumsily got off the masked man. "Well, because I don't want to kill you, silly!" In a painfully slow motion the clown began to push off the thick purple coat and then continued to unbutton the green vest. He hummed a little ditty Bruce didn't recognize while he worked at the buttons on his under shirt. "Just look at what I went through to haul you away from the fire!" Joker's voice dipped up from his usually annoying high shrill to a deep angry tone.

He ripped off the unbuttoned shirt to reveal a lean and _ghostly white_ torso. Bruce was surprised to see that the other man wasn't deathly thin with grotesque protruding bones, just thin...almost, healthy-looking.

Bruce couldn't help but notice the slim cut of his pelvis and the faint happy trail, dark pink nipples...and finally, an angry dark mass glowing malevolently on his left shoulder and breast plate. It was a nasty green, purple and yellow bruise.

"Pretty, right?" He sighed and poked it a little. "I earned it when I ran at a locked, _flaming_ door trying to get us out of a burning building." He stood there with his arm and palms facing up as if he was waiting for praise.

His memory was returning as Joker fed him the missing pieces. "You blew up the church while I was inside."

Joker laughed hysterically but he looked a little sad, if such a thing was possible. He licked his lips and lurched forward, holding up his hands as if he were trying to clutch something near his chest and hold it close. "I _tried_ to tell you.** I tried**." His voice deepened, sounding almost demonic. "I told you, and you didn't listen. You _never _listen."

The masked man leered up at the insanity that was personified through the Joker. He was hardly intimidated by his behavior. "Why would I listen to you? Why would I believe you now?"

"Because," he had snapped back and seemed calm again for the moment, "I've never lied to you." The Clown Prince of Crime was suddenly no longer engaged in a locked glared with the Bat. He was now busying his gaze on the masked man's lips. His eyes were hooded and glazed with mischief.

"When have I ever lied to you, hmm?" He licked his plump top lip. "When have I ever steered you astray, Batsy?"

Batman hid the spark of pain in his eyes as Joker put his weight on his tender chest to lower himself on top of the masked man. The crazy clown swung one leg over Bruce's body and straddled him around the waist. The pressure between them stirred an odd sensation from the millionaire, though his poker face revealed nothing.

Joker slowly peeled off his leather gloves as he sat perched on top of his prize. He hissed when they were both removed.

Bruce looked at 10 inflamed digits with white dead skin cresting over a new layer of pink flesh. A few fingers were scorched to the first knuckle and others were weeping puss or blood.

The captive glanced over at the vicious wound, knowing it must hurt. He wished the clown all the pain he could possibly receive.

"A pew mowed you down and landed on you," The criminal began, "yah know, one of those big wooden benches fat sacramental saps sit on." The pasty man rolled his eyes. "It was on fire, too. I hadda shove it off with my bare hands." He playfully displayed the raw flesh to his guest jazz hand style.

Joker smiled lazily down at his captive and blurted out with the utmost randomness, "You know I, huh, I realized something when I thought you were going to be cooked like a Christmas ham. I realized that I don't think I could go on without you. It scared me. Then, when I had you alone, and you were unconscious, I knew that I would never want anyone as much as I want you."

"Want me?" Bruce more mouthed the phrase than actually spoke it. Joker had made it clear many times before that he needed Batman. He said with exasperation that the caped man 'completed him', but want? Want Batman, for what? He glared up at the man hovering above him like a demented angel, utterly confused.

The clown patiently waited for Batman's eyes to do the talking. His lovely blue glare slowly softened and melted like the ice they mocked in color as the picture was made clear. Joker repeated, "I _want _you."

A vital gear snapped within the hero's psyche.

Bruce was about to protest, about to correct him, yell at him, curse him—something, but his thoughts flew when Joker began to kiss his chest.

His initial response was total shock when the ghost of a touch caressed him, barley there. Instead of roaring in protest Bruce sputtered and sighed. The faint touch grew more confident. The criminal ran the pad of his thumb over the other pink nub, the peeling skin only added to the friction.

Bruce's mind went white and let out an erotically irritated huff.

Joker spoke through soft kisses, "I need you." _Kiss_ "I've always have," _Kiss_. "Before we met, it was always you." He giggled suddenly with his open mouth pressed against the hero's taunt skin. "I was so alone." He groaned and leaned back up to peer into his captives eyes. "And I found you." Joker started grinning with more intensity now. "You deny it now, but you're _just_ as desperate for it as I am." His eyes were glowing hungrily.

Batman ground his teeth together, "I don't need you! I don't want you!" The very idea made his stomach churn and bubble over with disgust. "We aren't the same, Joker."

"Oh, but we _are_!" He chirped and bounced up, coming down on Bruce's hips again but this time with more deliberate angle. The restrained man gasped quietly and jerked.

Joker acted like he didn't know what he was doing, he only gyrated his hips and continued laughing loudly. "We ARE! We are, we are, we _**are**_!" The clown accented each word with a thrust into his captives groin, exciting muffed sounds of pleasure.

"You and I," he pointed with a slight of breath, "we're made for each other! I know you better than anyone on the planet, and you know that I'm right. No one gets to see this," he paused and glanced down at Batman's stomach and stroked the flat belly with splayed fingers, "this, _side _of you."

The Clown Prince sighed and leaned in closely. Joker gasped and slid his hips against the other man's loins, back and forth at an agonizingly slow pace.

Bruce couldn't deny the intense sensation streamlining his body. He wanted it to end, and yet... "Stop."

"Never." Joker was too wrapped up, too intoxicated, with all the little noises his bat was making. He took one hand and ran it up and down Batman's side. The Clown Prince of Crime was careful of every bruise and every scar, giving each special attention.

"No one else will ever accept you like I do. No one will ever need you, want you, love you, like I do." Joker kissed the exaggerated divide between Batman's muscular pec's and moved down laving at the skin every now and then until he was sitting between the others spread legs and face first in the Bats happy trail.

The clown panted lightly, "I always knew you had a gorgeous body, even through that damn armor." He nipped at a fading bruise bellow the other man's navel.

Bruce groaned lightly and bit his lip trying to suppress the traitorous sound.

"Do you like that?" Joker looked up and raised his brow while rubbing a hand up and down Batman's chest.

The bound man didn't say anything. He felt disgusting. Bruce called upon all of his extensive training. Mind over matter—do not lose control.

Another gentle bite to his chest and Bruce moaned uncontrollably.

_'I don't want this!'_ Bruce's eyes rolled back as Joker slipped his hand up the leg of his briefs and scratched the sensitive skin on the inside of his thigh. His dick twitched in anticipation.

Bruce cursed his new life style that had left him sexually unsatisfied for too long because that had to be the problem. The Dark Knight had no time for girlfriends, and he couldn't let some random gold digger see his maimed body. In truth, Bruce hadn't been laid in months, leaving his libido starving.

"Tell me what you like." Joker whined between kisses. "Tell me what you need." Another nip to his over sensitive skin. It was a mantra, a string of seductive please. "Tell me what you want." The clown started to slowly pull down Batman's white briefs while biting his own lip provocatively.

"I want you to stop, goddamn it!" Bruce growled and thrashed around as he felt his foe tug at the last scrap of clothing he had on.

Joker crawled up Bruce's hard body, pressing his bare chest up against the Bat's, more skin on skin. He rubbed his chest up against his captives, tracing his sides with his seared palms.

He pressed far into Bruce's personal space, so close Bruce could feel the breath coming from Jokers nose, and it made the millionaire uncomfortable.

Joker could feel Batman's hard dick beneath him. It pressed against his own erection through their clothes. The criminal clown ground down with a lewd motion, breathing heavily into the other man's face. "Hmm, feel that?"

"_Get. Away. From. Me_." Bruce was seething, though relieved that the criminal had stopped stripping him of his shorts.

"You're so hard."

The proud super hero wanted to refuse the accusation, but he couldn't deny it now. He was steadily becoming more and more aroused. And every time that psychopath shifted Bruce was aware of how good it felt to have Jokers hot body _rub_ up against his own.

The Clown Price of Crime watched his obsession think quietly, but then interrupted, "I want to see your face."

Batman froze.

"I want to take it off," he reached for the mask and Batman held his breath. Joker pulled away. "How about this, if you promise to enjoy yourself, I'll let you keep that ridiculous mask."

Again, Bruce fell silent. The idea of allowing Joker to have his way made his skin crawl but at the same time he had to think of his identity. He thought of Alfred. The captive scowled. He wanted to tell Joker to go to hell.

Joker looked at his eyes; they were shifting back and forth wildly and glazed over with fear. He had never seen fear there before. The Clown Prince of Crime didn't like it. He leaned down, so his scarred mouth was hovering over the other mans lips. They were so close; once he began to talk he could feel his own lips faintly touch over Batman's. "I promise you'll enjoy it if you just let yourself go."

The Dark Knight shuddered like a leaf in the wind and swallowed. He didn't have to say anything. They both knew that Joker had won when Bruce's body went lax. He didn't know what to expect; he had an idea, though. It seemed as if his fears had been confirmed when Joker ran his hands down the other mans rib cage then slid off the table.

He came back with a bottle of lubricant. Bruce averted his gaze back to the humming lights. He vaguely wondered why the criminal would even bother with lube if he was just going to rape him. The fear multiplied and divided within the bound man like cells at work.

Meanwhile Joker had stripped himself of his shoes and trousers. He stood, now, in his silky green boxers showing off his slim form with his hips sticking out in an odd pose.

Bruce noticed the Clown Prince of Crime had a small waste and long legs, that of almost a feminine nature. But he wasn't a woman; that was evident by the green tent between his legs. The clown stalked closer like a cat and crawled up Batman's strapped body.

"I'm going to take care of you." He reassured and pawed at the vigilantes' chest, drawing lines of irritated skin with his nails. The criminal sat between the Bat's spread legs and bowed his green head as if in prayer to kiss Bruce's jutting hip bone, laving it with moist lips.

Bruce squirmed, the sensation climbed up his body and down his loins. It all only intensified when Joker began to nip at the skin and graze a canine against the bone. Bruce groaned again and balled his hands into tight fists. He liked teeth.

He closed his eyes, he didn't want to watch. He didn't want to see his body succumb to this mad mans advances. Bruce could feel the swelling growth between his legs and shifted, wanting to relieve that tension.

Joker seemed to be able to feel the sexual frustration rolling of off Batman; he wanted to help him with that. The clown pulled his hand away from the Bats stomach and quickly cut away Bruce's briefs.

The millionaire gasped and popped his eyes open when he felt a confident hand wrap around his length. Another guttural sound of pleasure passed his lips and it only encouraged his keeper.

"No one's been taking care of you." Joker said softly as he stroked Bruce's straining cock. "How long has it been, Batsy?"

Bruce felt his head get heavy as it rolled into his shoulder; he moaned uncontrollably and found it hard to find the words. It felt so good to feel someone else put their hands on him. For a moment he could almost forget who that hand belonged to.

The clown sped up his pace and began fondling his balls with the other hand. "Tell me; when was the last time you had a _good fuck_." The criminal sounded so sexy, his words were lewd but Bruce loved it.

"Uhgm, t-hen, ten months." He was panting like a dog.

Joker purred and crawled closer to Bruce's dick and arched forward as if to swallow the whole thing but then stopped.

Bruce was watching now, he couldn't help it. His eyes glued on to the criminal; the man he was supposed to throw in jail was now the same man that he wanted to suck his dick. Bruce could feel the breath of that same man roll against the head of his cock in soft blows and it was driving him crazy.

"Can I?" Joker smiled sinisterly and opened his mouth wide like a hungry child and lazily pumped the masked man's cock, waiting for an answer.

With the scars it was like his mouth was twice as big, so big with plump red lips. Batman quivered and his hips jumped up uncontrollably. He groaned, not wanting to say it. The millionaire thrust his hips toward those delicious lips to show what he wanted. No luck.

"_Tell me_ what you want Batsy."

"I want you to..." A moment of hesitation, "suck my cock." He whispered. Then again with vigor, "Suck me off, right now!"

Bruce could have sworn he saw the Clown Prince of Crime shudder at his words, but that could have also just been his vision shaking as Joker wrapped his hot mouth around his cock.

His head fell back with a thud. He hissed through clenched teeth and cursed. "Hmm, oh, fuck yes."

The criminal made little gasps of pleasure around the Bat's hard dick while making no effort to hide his enjoyment. Joker stroked his captive's thigh almost lovingly, and then slapped the firm muscle.

Bruce jerked his hips up into the other man's mouth. He arched up again and again, he had gone mad. All of his reservation had dissolved the moment the Joker sucked him down. Bruce didn't even hear the clown gagging on his length.

The clown didn't falter; he kept sucking and bobbing his head. He wore a torn smile the whole time.

The millionaire gathered the strength to glance down at the man blowing him. Somehow Joker had rigged something behind Bruce, a collection of pillows or something, to prop up his upper half. He was nearly sitting up and could watch the clown as he rose and fell on his hard on. His green mop-top head rocked steadily to meet every short thrust and dove down rhythmically. He could feel Jokers nose bumping into his groin with each decent. Bruce groaned and tried to bring his hands to that green head of hair so he could push those sinful lips closer. He growled like an animal when he couldn't reach out and touch him.

Bruce's breathing became ragged and short, his hips were jerking wildly now as a tight ball of heat expanded in his lower abdomen. He went rigid, he was so close. "_Ah, fuck fuck fuck_." A litany of curses spilled out, he was going to-

Joker suddenly ripped his mouth away from Batman's dick, panting and wiping his mouth with the back of his arm.

Bruce groaned and threw himself to the full extent of the ropes in the clown's direction. He was aching everywhere and reeling with desire. "Don't you dare stop _now_!"

Joker, still breathing heavily, looked up at his Bat with hooded eyes. "I'm not stopping, Basty." He licked his lips, though slower than usual. The clown moaned loud and long, "hmmm I want to taste you so bad." He ducked down and licked Batman's weeping head as if he couldn't help himself. "But I've got a better idea."

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THANK YOU


	4. What We Want

What We Want-Chapter Three

**Warnings:** Chapter three is rated **NC-17** for strong homoerotic scenes, dub/con, language and BDSM

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Bruce was aching. He had been so close, and then it stopped. He could barely think straight, let alone register anything his keeper was saying.

The Clown Prince was shaking. He had _the_ Batman's thick cock in _his_ mouth and oh, noises he had been making... The noises he had been making for him, _because of him_. Joker groaned. He pressed the heel of his hand to his hard on through his boxers. It hurt to move.

"I need you, I want it. I need you now." He was barking like a mad dog and random tremors shivered across his frame. He reached behind his back and pulled forth the bottle of lubricant.

Bruce saw the small plastic bottle and didn't feel the same lurch of fear spring up from the pit of his stomach like he had before. It was different. Something jumped, but it wasn't fear. Excitement? No. That couldn't have been it.

The slick sound of a liquid shooting out of a cap dragged the millionaire out of his head and back to the real world. Joker was squirting an incredibly tiny amount of lubricant onto his fingers.

The Dark Knight was sure that this meant he was going to be violated. He squeezed his eyes shut, sealing them closed to block out the invasive world and tried to prepare himself.

A slew of heavy panting and moaning broke the silence into shards; it gave Bruce chills in the all the right ways. Somewhere in his fractured mind the detective knew what he would be looking at, and he wanted so badly to watch. His eyes peeled apart.

It was a beautiful sight. Joker looked as if his pale skin was glowing while kneeling above Batman's strapped body. His head was thrown back, his stringy green hair springing out in every direction. The criminal's pasty throat jutted out and his Adams Apple bobbed slowly up and down.

"Aghhh" His thin right arm was reached around behind his now entirely naked body, his hand out of sight, and yet Bruce knew exactly where it was.

If it was even possible the millionaire felt his dick swell even harder. Bruce moaned.

Joker heard the call and wrapped his lubricated left hand around the captive's length and pumped it vigorously. "Do you want to fuck me?" The clowns' voice was breathless as he demanded an answer.

The millionaire pushed into the tightly coiled hand, but was not able to respond. He jerked his head to the right when the sensations got too intense.

"Do you want to fuck me?" The insane man questioned again, this time with more passion, and pulled his hand back into view from behind his back.

Bruce groaned and his hips jerked violently at the thought. "Agh, fuck. _God,_ Joker yes!"

A wicked smile inched across his torn face, "Yes what?" He was going to make him say it.

The Dark Knight groaned, but without misery this time. "Yes!" He clenched his teeth. "I want to fuck you!"

The clown quivered and moved into position. He scrambled up the vigilantes stomach and turned around so that his back faced the other man.

The hero's breathing hitched as he watched the pale sinewy muscles around Jokers shoulders tick. The criminal was moving his arms, moving his hands. Bruce gasped again when he felt Joker grip his penis. It took all his will power not to buck up as the head of his dick was pressed against the other man's body. His eyes stayed fixed on the pale skin of Joker's back_. 'It's like porcelain,'_ he thought, '_his whole body is like porcelain_'.

The clown twisted his head over his own shoulder with owl-like flexibility. With a craned neck Joker licked his bottom lip and said huskily, "Just remember, you asked for it." He fell back and impaled himself on the Bat's cock.

Their instantaneous cry was like a dirty chorus.

Bruce's body snapped up in a beautiful arch and his hips slammed forward uncontrollably. The position they were in made movement difficult but Bruce was still driven to curl into the smaller man's body; and Joker used his bent knees to push himself into a violent pace. The Bat groaned and threw his head back as he pumped his hips mindlessly.

Joker sobbed as his stringy limps went weak with the sensation. He moaned and met each short thrust in time by pulling himself up and coming back down. Batman slid in and out of his body viciously; the ministrations were overwhelming. Joker had to brace himself with his hands against the Dark Knights legs when it got so rough he could barely stand it. "Aha!" He felt as if he was being torn apart but the pain pumped pleasure throughout his veins.

"Uggh, so good Batsy, hmm s'good," he mumbled incoherency. Bruce hit his prostate. "_Fuck._ Oh yes! Fuck, ah yes. Uggh, fuck me Basty." He was babbling with his head thrown back.

Bruce groaned throatily. He was close. "Let me touch you." He moaned breathlessly and extended his right arm as far as the restraints would allow. "I want to touch you."

There was no contemplation. Joker used one hand and skillfully unbound his right wrist with such a speed it would have put Houdini to shame.

Before Bruce could even get the blood to circulate in his hand he blindly located and began fisting Jokers weeping cock in time with each buck of his hips. "Do you like that?" He growled.

The clown whimpered like something broken as Batman fucked his ass and pumped his dick roughly. He couldn't speak at first. "Aha," he gasped, "yes. Oh yes, Batsy!" His words were strangled and then cut off completely as a string of moans flew out. Joker went rigid and thick bands of cum came spurting across his abdomen.

Bruce's vision went white before he saw stars bleed across his sight as Joker climaxed. He spasmed uncontrollably around Jokers tight body. It was more than the hero could take. Batman painted Joker's insides as he reached the peak of a spine splintering orgasm.

The millionaire shivered. His mind was fuzzy and his body tingling. It took all his strength just to breath. He looked up at the fatigued body above him and blamed the post-orgasmic euphoria for the feelings of passion Bruce was experiencing.

"Hmm," The smug clown was glowing. Joker pulled himself away from the bat's dick and turned around only to collapse on top of his captive. He found himself to be too weak to do much else. The criminal suffered rolling waves of tremors pulsating through his spent body from his orgasm.

Bruce slowly began to fall from cloud nine. Why did this feel so right when it was clearly **wrong**? The vigilante sighed and bludgeoned these thoughts back into the deepest corner of his mind, to his closet of skeletons, with a hammer.

"So," Joker sighed into a sweaty dip on the Dark Knights lean stomach, "was it good for you too, baby?" He crooned. Though the bound man couldn't see it, he could feel the maimed smile spreading against his skin.

The hero flinched at the comment. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it when he realized he couldn't think of anything to say. Bruce became aware of his hand—his right hand; the same that he had used to jerk off that mad man—it was free. It was free and moist with the evidence of what had been done.

The criminal pushed himself up to look at the other. "You could hit me, if you like." The Clown Prince said pleasantly as if he could sense the internal conflict swarming inside the other man.

Bruce understood the message and looked away. This was not a statement of the obvious. It was an offer. His captor wasn't saying 'well you could hit me if you wanted and probably escape, too.' No, instead the inferred meaning was 'you can hit me as hard as you like if it'll make you feel better.'

The vigilante blinked. "No." Batman started to pull up his shield again. However, the weight from his body—Joker's warm body—kept the walls from reeling up all the way. "Why did you do this?"

"Me?" Joker squealed. "Why did we do that?" He corrected loudly. "Remember what you said. I didn't do anything you didn't want." The clown skipped his nimble fingers up the side of Batman's taunt chest.

"Was it to break me? It won't work." He simply dismissed the previous statement as if it wasn't even there.

The criminal smiled knowingly and shook his head slowly to gesture 'no'.

Bruce growled threateningly and pulled his hand into a tightly wound fist. H his arm shook with rage but he didn't raise his hand to strike. "You got what you wanted, Joker, now what?"

Joker frowned. "Why don't you ever listen? Maybe you did...I wasn't lying earlier." He giggled in an exhausted way. "I meant _everything_ I said."

The phrase, though vague, meant so much.

Bruce shook his head in defiance. He could not accept that, he couldn't. "How can you say that? You don't know the meaning of the word. You_ don't_ know what you're talking about."

Ambiguous words such as 'everything' and 'that' all alluded to one not so vague statement made earlier.

"_No one else will ever accept you like I do. No one will need you, want you, love you like I do."_

The strangled chain of words hung unspoken in the air, hung like a too short noose, and if Bruce tripped now he would fall into it.

"I love-"

"Shut up!" The Dark Knight thrashed. "You don't mean it! You're fucking crazy and you don't know what the hell you're talking about!" Still, his balled fist hadn't left his side. Why was he so adamant about not hitting this madman when he had done it a hundred times before? What had changed?

Joker leaned in closely, intimately close. He looked Bruce in the eyes and straightened his neck. "Do you really think I don't mean it? _Really_?"

Bruce struck out. Like lighting his hand flew out and his fingers coiled around that slim ivory throat. He would rather twist this fragile neck than answer that question.

The clown gasped pleasantly and leaned into the constricting touch. His eyes rolled back and then shut.

It was at this moment when Bruce noticed just how much paint was gone from the criminals face. Most of the white paste had either melted or been smudged off by now. In some rare spots he actually saw what could be considered skin. It was odd how true flesh looked more out of place and fake than did the white face-paint.

Tightening his grip the bound man clenched his jaws as he angrily drained the life out of the other. Batman marveled at the warmth and softness of the ivory skin beneath his palm.

The criminal swallowed slowly and Bruce could feel the skin slide up and down over hard bone, he could feel the Adams Apple bob. Bruce suddenly remembered how good it had felt inside that throat.

Joker moaned and shifted what must have been his arm. Batman assumed he would soon try to pry away. The clown gasped again but it was much raspier than before. His eyes popped open.

Never before had Bruce noticed the captivity of Joker's brown eyes. They were fiery and wild, just like the Joker, but very human, too. His eyes were beautiful—lovely—in every way. They harbored so much it made the millionaires head spin. There was no fear in the stare however, no anger or guilt either. The criminal was lucid in his madness.

Joker's balance was shaky as his blood cells screamed for oxygen. Soon, when the need for breath became too much, the green haired man fell forward. He caught himself by planting the palms of his hands on both sides of the captives' body and wrapped his thighs around Bruce's middle. Now he hung directly above Batman's face.

Despite the jerky fall Bruce still couldn't bring himself to rip his attention away from that green gaze. He did, however, tighten his grip, which had gone slack.

The clown's reaction was immediate. He sporadically ground his hardening erection against the other man's thigh and a dry breath cracked in his throat. Joker writhed as a nearly silent cry rolled past his dry lips.

Whether it was to satisfy his own animosity or enhance the pleasure of the suffocating man, the Dark Knight refused to release the pliable jugular. Batman watched those burning green eyes. He expected the fires to start to wither, grow weak or fatigued and yet that passion never dissipated.

Bruce growled, threatening those unmoving eyes to do something—anything! The personal stare was not broken.

Batman suddenly realized the body attached to the esophagus he was strangling was shaking, and so was the table. Joker's hip bones were stabbing against his thigh with a familiar rhythm. His rutting was slick against Bruce's thigh, lubricated from his previous ejaculation. He was grinding against Bruce's thigh, high off a lack of oxygen, and he was enjoying himself.

Bruce yanked his hand away from Joker like the other man had bit him. "You're a sick son of a bitch."

Joker gasped for air in a loud howling inhale. He forced himself backwards, tumbling off the table. "Look who's talking," he wheezed. For minutes the Clown Prince remained down, content on tasting the sweet oxygen and listening to the hypnotic beat of his swollen veins surge through his skull. "I can't help myself, Batsy, your touch gets me all wound up." He looked down at his protruding erection.

Bruce couldn't stop himself from looking at the soft length of the criminal's throat. The skin was still red and irritated all over, finger-tipped blotches freckled the shaft. The bound man could see an outline of his own big hand print around that neck.

Joker noticed the Bat's gawking and stroked his Adam's Apple. He started giggling quietly but the hushed joy soon escalated and rose to a roaring laugh. "Hoo", he had to gasp for breath, "Hoo, haha, who woulda, ha, ha, he, who thought Batman would haaafve a kinky side?" He bent over and squeezed his bony knees. "A lil, erotic asphyxiation, eh?"

Bruce growled, swung his arms, kicked and shouted. He was furious. "Let me go!" He began to tug at the ridiculously well tied knot. "I've had enough of your games!"

"Yah sure you don't want to choke me some more? Come on you can choke me and I'll beat off on your chest. I bet you'd like that, hu?"

"If you come near me again I'll fucking kill you." They both knew that would never happen. Batman couldn't kill Joker, not now and not ever.

"I'll let you go." The clown said simply and spun around on his bare heel. He all but skipped over to a table in the far side of the room. He talked from somewhere out of his captives line of sight, "I feel like you should have bought me dinner or something." When the other didn't respond Joker continued, "you can try all ya' want. No one gets outa my knots."

Bruce noticed the timber of his voice was changing—he was walking closer. "This doesn't change anything. I'm going to put you away."

"Oh! Of course not, I wouldn't expect it to." Joker came back wearing pants.

For some reason Batman could hear a pitch of sarcasm tainting the criminal's speech.

"Though," the green haired man started off conversationally, "I wish you'd remember a few things."

Joker looked hurt. Until today Bruce didn't know the criminal was capable of feeling hurt.

"Remember, I didn't take your mask; I didn't hurt you; and," He paused and pushed his hand into the other man's face. It hovered so closely the millionaire could make out each angry blistered finger. A white cloth was shoved under Bruce's nose. The last thing the hero heard before the chloroform kicked in, "and remember you wanted it."

* * *

THANK YOU


	5. Evidence

EVIDENCE-Chapter Four

**Warnings:** Chapter four is rated R for general dark/angst themes, minor depression and emotional pain/trauma

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Alone, unbound, and redressed in his bat suit, Bruce woke up on the floor in a foreign room. Though he didn't know it, he'd been unconscious for 10 hours. The vigilante clutched his skull with both hands in pain; apparently chloroform worsens headaches.

Batman examined his surroundings. He was in a small dark room that reeked of dust and decaying paper. It appeared as if no one had occupied this space in months, probably years. The detective glanced down at the wooden floor. A thick film of dust carpeted the surface. Bruce could clearly see a trail were a man's bare foot had padded across the floor and peeled up the dust. He could also see where his own heels hand been drug across the same path. Joker had put him in here.

Bruce shuddered. Everything smashed into his awareness at once: the fire, the fact that Joker had told him not to go in, and then the blow from the bomb. Everything was blank until he woke up beneath his...enemy...and he, they, and what they did, that came back, too. How long had he been gone?

"Alfred," Bruce gasped suddenly. He stopped feeling sorry for himself long enough to think about his only friend. The closest person he had to family was probably going insane right now. He groped his utility belt for the tracking beacon. He needed to contact Alfred now. He needed his friend.

With great dismay, Batman realized anything he had that could send out or receive a signal was gone. He marched toward the door it was unlocked and popped open with ease. Cautiously the vigilante stalked through the hallway and around a corner. He recognized where he was.

Now standing in the same room where Joker had kept him hours ago, Bruce felt his face grow warm._ The_ table was there, near the center of the room, with one side up against the wall where his head had been. He couldn't believe how small and fragile it looked from a distance. The table was as old as anything else in the room, it's a wonder the ancient thing had not snapped.

On the floor, around each of the four legs, lay the same coils of rope that had held Gotham's Dark Knight to the table. Bruce noticed that a ring of dust-free floor circled each leg where they had dragged across the floor during their rhythmic thrusting. The masked man closed his eyes and sighed heavily. He looked up and saw something black and small on the table top.

Quietly walking over to the object the Dark Knight realized it was a cell phone. Bruce dissected the small phone, looking for anything suspicious. When he was satisfied he flipped it open and dialed.

Without even finishing its twang the other line connected as Alfred answered. "Hello?" His voice was strung and weak. He hadn't been sleeping.

Bruce felt his heart crack a little with guilt. "Alfred, it's me."

"Thank God," the butler sighed quickly with relief. "Where are you? Are you hurt?"

The millionaire smiled sadly. "I don't know, Alfred. I'm not hurt. I just don't know where the hell I am. Can you find me?"

"Of course, Sir." Moments later the butler had an answer. The masked man could hear through the phone as Alfred pulled his things together to head out. "The Vincent Plane Hangar."

Bruce snorted. The Vincent family had once been the leaders of the crime industry in Gotham years ago. Falcone had shown up and took over the 'business' in the 70's; the private landing strip went under. It would appear Joker had made good use of it.

"I'll be waiting outside." With that, Bruce ended the call with a sharp slap to the top of the flip phone and put it on the utility belt. He glared down at the table and felt a bout of frustration charge through his veins. It mocked him. The dry wood was pale and faded in color, it looked lifeless and it should have meant _nothing_ to him. But it did mean something and he hated that.

Anger swelled within him and boiled over. In one great blow Bruce swung his arms up above his head and slammed all his force down onto the back of table like an enraged ape. The powerful blow shattered the ancient wood into dozens of pieces under his hands. The whole room seemed to shriek, or maybe that was Bruce.

Still not satisfied, the masked man collapsed to his knees and pounded his balled hands against the wooden floor. He screamed at the indifferent boards until they, too, snapped into splinters. Now he sat on the ground, arms limp at his sides, and waited for the dust to settle.

After the dirty gray cloud dissipated Batman felt better. He went to the front door and peeled it back just an inch to look outside. He didn't see any one, which didn't surprise him. The hanger was in the middle of nowhere. The masked man quickly left the building behind him.

Forty-five minutes later a familiar limousine came awkwardly bouncing down the dirt road. When the lengthy car came closer the caped man rose out of the shadows and jumped in.

With a grunt Bruce fell onto the soft leather seats and pulled off his cowl. It was nice to feel safe. He sighed with his eyes shut and when he opened them a very unhappy old man was glaring at him.

"Master Wayne, if I had the strength any more I'd put you over my knee!" Alfred looked like a flustered old owl with his body twisting like that to stare at him. "You were gone for two nights!"

For a second Bruce felt as if he were thirteen again and in big trouble, but then he realized that his old friend was more scared than angry. "I'm sorry Alfred."

The old man was quiet for a moment and then turned back to face the sorry excuse of a road.

The vigilante was thankful Alfred had chosen the limousine. Usually it would have been impractical, but any other car he had wouldn't be large enough. Also, the tinted windows served him well. It would be a little conspicuous if Batman was cruising around in the back of one of Bruce Wayne's sports car's.

Once they were home and in the garage, the tycoon mustered more conversation. "I was gone for two nights?" he asked softly, more to himself.

"Yes. Officers at the Church said you were in there when it exploded. It's been all over the news. When I couldn't contact you I had the Batmobile drive itself home hoping you'd be in it." Alfred paused for a moment to clear his throat. "Bruce, what happened in there?"

The younger man looked down and shook his head.

Alfred frowned.

Bruce felt terrible for not explaining. Alfred deserved an answer. But he could not bring himself to say anything. _'I was missing for two nights because I was too busy fucking Joker. Sorry old friend, I must have lost track of time...'_

He wanted to punch himself. "Tomorrow, I promise, I'll tell you what you want to know." He clapped the older man on the shoulder and smiled, "But right now I really need a shower."

The trek up stairs to his room seemed to last forever. It felt so strange to be walking through Bruce Wayne's house in the Bat suit.

When he reached the bathroom Bruce began to peel off the suit in front of the mirror. His maimed body had never horrified the rich boy before, why would now be any different?

What he saw drained all the color from his face.

His torso was freckled—covered—not in bruises, but in white and red paint. He froze to stare at his reflection. Most of his mid stomach was white where Joker had pressed up against him so closely, and his nipples were blotched with bright red. A trail of lip-shaped stamps lead down the center of his abdomen to skin that was still cover by his pants. The stunned man remembered how those torn lips felt so soft, and his tongue, too. He groaned and leaned on the counter, his legs suddenly weak. The millionaire looked down to catch his breath and he nearly screamed.

The rim of his underwear, which was barely visible under the pants of the Bat suit, was not white. _His_ briefs were white, plain, cotton and _white._ The elastic band wrapped around his waist was black. He rushed to force the armored pants off, even though he really didn't want to see...

Joker's silk green boxers snugly clinging to his body.

Bruce wanted to cry at his reflection. What kind of sick joke was this? Without the pants he could see more paint-on his hips and thighs, it was everywhere. The most horrific lay there on his thigh, a splash of dry crusty white—and that was not paint. He started shaking. He was covered in_ Jokers'_ paint, wearing _Jokers' _underwear and had_ Jokers'_ dried cum on his leg.

"Jesus Christ." The shaking got worse. "Get off of me!" He shouted crazily and torn the green shorts away from his body. Without glancing at his nude reflection Bruce fell into the shower.

Needing the comfort of the near boiling water Bruce arched his neck to face the head of the shower. The water was so hot the room crept with steam and it made the millionaire dizzy. "Get off," he repeated sadly and began laving his moist body with a cloth. _'I said get off. I told him to get off of me, but is that what I wanted? I let him. Is that what I wanted?' _

Bruce choked back another cry. He needed this evidence gone and his thigh needed to be washed first. He glanced down and seeing the stain was so surreal. It was right there, right below his hip. He remembered how the splotch got there. His dick jumped at the thought. Bruce growled and scrubbed the stains away.

The paint was still there. The cream was so thick and oily; the water just beaded on top of it and the cloth only spread it further. He threw down the hand towel and began using his blunt finger nails.

Scraping and clawing at the white and red paint only irritated his own skin. Between the steamy hot water flushing his skin pink and his own nails dragging across his lean chest, he was turning just as red as that paint. The only patch of skin that wasn't red was the purple block of bruising. Soon he couldn't tell the difference between his flesh and the red paint. So, he scrubbed everywhere.

Bruce screamed and dug his nails in deeper until he saw an all new shade of red. The crimson collided with pearly white soap and water. It dripped down and it was everywhere. Bruce couldn't escape the red. The bright color reminded him of those lips...

"What's happened to me?"

Only once the water ran frigid cold and his finger tips had begun to welt did Bruce step out of the shower. His muscles were lax and heavy, it seemed to be a chore to wrap a towel around his waist.

The young tycoon shuffled past his shell of a suit and stopped to look down at the shiny green shorts. Bruce knew he couldn't leave them there; Alfred would want to clean before he'd even be considering waking up. He silently scooped them up with his right hand. What should he do with it?

Angrily the millionaire marched up to the waste basket and held the flashy fabric over the bin. Just like that, he could throw them away—he could! He didn't. Bruce hung his head and crumbled up the boxers like a paper ball. He stuffed it away in the back of his night stand and fell backwards on his bed. Just like that, soaking and in a towel, Bruce slept.

**XiiX**

Alfred walked into the master bedroom around 10:00AM to wake the young man. He had every intention of yanking the sheets off and all but demanding an explanation for the twenty eight hours he was missing.

That had been the plan however, when he reached the bed and saw Bruce sprawled out on the mattress, his aggression evaporated. Bruce had a blue towel tucked around his waist, one leg hanging from the edge of the bed and his mouth ajar. He looked like a mess.

If this had been any other situation Alfred might try to throw marshmallows in his mouth from across the room, like he had when Mr. Wayne was still a boy. But he wasn't a boy any more, he was a troubled man.

Uncovered and exposed the butler could clearly see the malignant purple mass on the other's upper chest. Alfred's brow knitted together. He approached the bed to get a better look. Until now the old man had assumed that Bruce had not been in the explosion, this nasty bruise seemed to suggest otherwise. His stomach was also covered in scratches. The irritated lines of red looped all around his taunt torso. These weren't like any injury the old man had seen before.

The bat suit would have protected him from something this small. _'Was his suit removed?'_ Alfred was about to walk away and allow his segregate son to sleep a while longer when the young master started to stir.

"Alfred?" the barely awake man asked groggily.

The butler sighed and pulled together a pleasant smile before he turned around to face the other. "Yes?"

"What time is it?" The young tycoon raked his hand over his face in an attempt to wake up.

"It's 10:15, sir." As more time elapsed, the more worried the butler became. He stood awkwardly fidgeting with his cuff's.

Snorting when he realized he'd fallen asleep in the towel, the young man got out of bed. He looked down at the Bruce Wayne-sized wet spot on his bed and decided he didn't care. "What do I have to do today? Had anyone noticed I was missing?"

"You have a meeting with a Miss Katie Ross at four. And I'm afraid other than Mr. Fox and I, no one noticed Gotham's rich boy missing." Alfred cleared his throat and approached the other. "Bruce," he began softly and sat down in a chair across from the bed. "Tell me what happened."

The younger man nodded and walked toward his dresser. He wanted to put some clothes on.

Alfred politely looked away while the other slipped into some sweat pants. When the bed squeaked the butler turned his face up and waited patiently for an explanation.

The millionaire sat with his arms at his side and stared down at the carpet. "He told me there was a bomb before I even went in the church." He started by avoiding names. "When it blew, he was still outside. He was safe and could have left but he went in and got me. I wasn't even awake." Bruce wanted the bed to swallow him. "When I woke up he had me tied down and my suit was gone."

"Your mask?" The butler went white.

"No, he...I don't think, he didn't take that off."

Alfred tried another question, "Did Joker do that to you?" He motioned toward his scratches.

The millionaire flinched at the name and subconsciously pulled his arms over his flat belly. "He didn't hurt me." The young man's eyes were getting dull.

Irritated with the vague replies Alfred sighed. "So what, then? You two just, talked for twenty eight hours?"

Bruce coiled into himself further. "I tried not to, but I couldn't stop him." He started shaking his head in disbelief at his own words. "And then he was nice, and Joker—he, he..." Bruce moaned in horror, "Alfred I, no! He _made_ me, I didn't want to but we—" His words were haunting and shaky before he stood up and started to scream. "I couldn't stop it! Do you understand? I couldn't stop it! It's not my fault, it's not my fault!"

"Bruce, Bruce!" Alfred was up in an instant to hold onto the young man's face. He tried to get Bruce to look him in the eyes, but with no success. Alfred was scared and confused. He hadn't seen Mr. Wayne so hysterical since the death of his parents. "What isn't your fault?"

With a head hung low as if on a noose Bruce confessed, "I liked it." His voice was horse as he threw his head up to face Alfred. "He _made_ me have sex with him and I _liked it_. What's wrong with me?!" Bruce hissed angrily in the older man's face. "What did he do to me, what's wrong with me?"

* * *

THANK YOU


	6. We Try To Forget

We Try to Forget-Chapter Five

**Warnings:** Rated R for moderate heterosexual themes, suggestive language, moderate violence and offensive language.

* * *

It was 4:00pm now and Alfred and Bruce hadn't spoken to each other since the confession six hours earlier. The older man wanted so desperately to comfort his sergeant son but he didn't know how. Furthermore, it didn't seem the young millionaire was interested in talking to anyone.

Bruce hadn't been seen since he told his lifelong friend to go away. He had been on the second floor for hours, doing God knows what, insisting on not being bothered. It was obvious that Master Wayne was not in the mood for group therapy.

The butler, though wanting to nurse the wounds his young friend was harboring, knew the gesture would not be appreciated. Even if he did get the chance to speak with Bruce, what would he say? Joker had forced sex on him and Bruce enjoyed it, Alfred didn't know how to approach that. He had tried to keep himself busy by cleaning and preparing the pent house for their company, Alfred couldn't stop worrying about what he had heard. _'Perhaps I should call Mr. Fox, maybe he needs a doctor...'_

Just as that thought entered his mind a rarely used doorbell sung out and the Butler straightened his suit and approached the door. Alfred was worried, he didn't know if Bruce was ready for this. The last thing they needed right now was some woman running to the paper's saying Bruce Wayne is a lunatic with a hard on for the Joker.

"Hello, Miss Katie Ross?" Alfred opened the door with his bright smile.

A young woman with brown hair and blue eyes stood at the threshold. She was taller than the average female and slim, but shapely. An air of confidence rolled off of the guest in a powerful way. Everything about this woman screamed strength; her nearly arrogant smile and her stylish yet slightly masculine pant suit made her appear so aggressive, yet beautiful. She looked like a lawyer. She looked like Rachael.

"Hello." She looked past Alfred and into the house. "Is Mr. Wayne here?"

_'Gold digger.'_ the butler thought cynically. Alfred spared a moment to shoot a sideways glance at Miss Ross. "Why yes he is. Would you like to come in, please, sit." He beamed and bit back his witty tongue. With a gloved hand extended he led Miss Ross toward a sofa.

"Thank you." She sat down softly and crossed her legs at the ankles.

"I'll go fetch him, if you'll wait right here." Alfred felt like he needed to stress the 'wait right here' part. He had a creeping suspicion this prowler would snoop if given the chance.

She folded her hands in her lap and looked up at the older man. Suddenly she didn't look so threatening. Katie nodded gently and offered a small smile.

Alfred walked away, peering over his shoulder as he went, and made his way up the stairs. Once on the second floor the butler could feel the resonance of a thick bass and drum-driven song coming from the exercise room. "Bruce?" He knocked on the door, though, not to his surprise, his knock fell on deaf ears. As the old man pushed open the door he could now clearly hear an alien tune playing, some young-person music that he didn't recognize.

Somehow the millionaire heard the soundless door softly swing open and waved his old friend in. Bruce was facing the wall-sized window on the side of the room opposite the door. He was shirtless and sweaty with a towel slung over his shoulder.

Alfred stayed at the door despite the hand gesture. "Miss Ross has arrived."

"Tell her I'll be down in a second." Bruce turned around and he looked like a new man. He was calm and composed; it was as if nothing had happened.

_'That's just like him,'_ Alfred thought_, 'He's going to pretended it was all a bad dream.'_ The older man couldn't stop the tight frown that turned the lines on his face. "Might I suggest some cologne? You stink." He waved a gloved hand in front of his nose in a show of mock disgust.

Bruce chuckled and started walking toward the door, probably on his way back to his room so he could go get dressed.

"Bruce..." Alfred began and the younger man stopped at the door. "Never mind."

"I'll be down in a few." The millionaire walked out and down to his room.

Meanwhile Miss Ross occupied herself on the sofa. She had brought the day's newspaper with her and had begun to read. The cover page was titled, DENT DEAD! THE BAT NOT BROUGHT TO JUSTICE!

"Hello." A silky voice from across the room forced the young woman to jump in her seat. She flattened the opened newspaper on her lap and glanced up to see Mr. Wayne smiling down at her.

"Hi. I'm surprised you agreed to meet with me." She started to get up in order to shake his hand but Bruce waved her back down.

He noticed it right away; she looked so much like Rachael it hurt. "I'm a little surprised, too." He stared at her a moment more and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Why did you want to meet me?" Was he, flirting?

She smiled shyly before her face washed out in seriousness, "_Mrs_. Dawes' maiden name is Ross and her brother is my father. I'm Rachael's cousin from her mother's side." She paused for a moment and pursed her lips. "She talked about you a lot, and I know you two were close. I just—well, we don't have any family in Gotham anymore. We just want to know what happened to her. What really happened, not just what's the police report."

Bruce stood for a moment and stared at the floor thinking_. 'Well, that would explain the resemblance.'_ Rachael had talk about her cousin Katie before, though he had never met her. The Ross family lived in Oregon, at least, that's what he remembered. The millionaire cleared his throat. "I'll tell you what I know, but, I'm hungry." He still hadn't eaten since he'd been home. "Would you mind if we talked over dinner?"

Katie nodded and creased her newspaper into a neat square.

Bruce noticed the cover page, "You shouldn't read that garbage."

**XiiX**

FOUR MONTHS LATER

"How do I look?" Bruce had been wrestling with a tie for ten minutes now. He had always hated wearing the things, but tonight he wanted to look nice.

"Like you don't know how to tie a tie." Alfred said dryly and swatted the other's hand away. With a theatrical flick and taunt pull, the older man had fixed the unseemly knot his sergeant son had tied. "There, how's that?" The butler marveled at his handy work through the mirror.

"Thanks." The millionaire was wearing the tie Katie had gifted him last month. They had been dating for months now and things couldn't be better.

Miss Ross was kind and smart, she wasn't interested in his money and she had a world of patience for him, well, for Batman (even if she didn't know it).

The young man was thinking about changing that. He wanted to tell her about his double life. Bruce wanted to tell her that he was the Dark Knight.

Though, probably the most amazing development from the past four months, there hasn't been so much as a peep from Joker.

"It's just about time for you to go. You told Miss Ross that you'd be there at 7:30, sir." Alfred reminded him and left after patting the younger man on the shoulder.

"Yea, I'll be heading out soon. Hey, Alfred, I want to tell you something." Bruce sighed and straightened up slightly, he was smiling widely.

"Hm?" The butler looked inquisitive.

"I'm going to tell Katie, and before you try to stop me, I've already thought about it and I've made up my mind. She's wonderful, and she understands me. I'm bringing her back to the house tonight, and I'm going to tell her." His words didn't leave much confusion, or much room to argue. He wouldn't be convinced to change his mind. God damn Wayne-attitude, if you asked Alfred.

The older man's face twisted in conflict. He sensed this was a bad idea. "Bruce, if you think this is best...but, are you sure?"

"I, I love her." He was speaking bravely but his face betrayed him. Bruce was nervous and doubtful. "I've got to go."

**XiiX**

Dinner was pleasant, and the walk through one of the nicer parks was going well, too. Bruce was feeling flushed and youthful. He constantly rubbed the small of Katie's back and kissed her neck. She crumbled into each playful touch until it seemed they would need more privacy than the tree to the right of the bike path.

"Come home with me." Bruce said breathlessly into her ear.

Katie made a small sound of approval and arch off the tree into her boyfriend's strong body. "I think we've waited long enough."

They hadn't slept together yet. Bruce made it clear that he wasn't after a physical relationship; Katie had always seemed all too pure for fucking on the first date, anyways.

Bruce growled and promptly scooped his date up bridal style, deciding he couldn't wait for her to walk, and made his way back to the car.

That night Bruce Wayne's speeding rivaled that of Batman's. He reached his pent house in record time.

"Come on, baby, get the door open." Katie was lithely rubbing up against the millionaire from behind; her hands came around his waist and boldly began to unfasten his belt.

The front door swung open and both lovers ran inside and up the stairs. Try as they might to stay quiet for Alfred's sake, the trip up to the master bedroom was accented by trips into walls and rapturous gaps. Perhaps they had drank too much wine at dinner.

Bruce sought out Katie's smaller hand and led her through the door and into his bedroom. With little effort the man pulled his dates arm and she came gently flying into his chest. She used nimble fingers to pop open each button on his shirt and quickly peeled it off.

"Hmm, you're amazing." The woman moaned into her date's chest, planting hungry kisses down his taunt stomach and back up his neck.

Bruce cupped her face and stared at her for a moment. "Are you sure?"

Katie bit her bottom lip and nodded eagerly.

The millionaire smirked and kissed her slowly before she started to walk backwards toward the bed. "I need something out of the bathroom, I'll be right back." Bruce, with some effort, turned around and quickly dashed into the bathroom. He needed condoms.

Briskly walking into the expansive wash room Bruce began looking for the box of rubbers buried somewhere under the sink. "Ah-ha." He said happily, bounced up and caught a glance of his reflection. Something sunk in his gut.

The red paint was back. It was there, on his torso, so bright and red and beautifully evil. Bruce tentatively touched his lean abdomen in a way of inspecting his flesh. He was afraid to touch the red paint—afraid it might suck him in somewhere he couldn't get out. What if Katie saw—what would she think?

Katie! Bruce growled at himself when he realized this paint was her lip stick. He wanted to smash the glass but, instead, decided to turn off the light and return to the vixen waiting for him in his bed.

When Bruce closed the bath room door his eyes quickly adjusted to the dark room. He could clearly see Katie under thin black sheets leaning over to root around in her purse. "Oh, so you've decided to join me?" She said huskily.

"Didn't want you to start without me." The millionaire spoke lowly as he crawled onto the mattress.

"Maybe I already did."

Bruce moaned at the thought and was under the modest sheet in a flash. His large hand found purchase on her thigh as he lay down on top of Katie. He wanted to devour her.

The woman mewed and ran her soft hands along his lean ribs as he kissed her passionately. She wanted it just as bad.

"Wait." Bruce sighed and hung his head between his shoulders. "I need," he was slightly out of breath, "I need to tell you something first." It wouldn't feel right if he didn't tell her the truth.

"Oh god, you don't have AIDs do you?" Katie squeaked.

The millionaire laughed. "No, nothing like that." He pushed himself off of her smaller body in preparation to confess, "I'm not exactly who you think I am."

Katie pulled a pillow from behind her head to cover herself up, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

"What do you mean?"

Bruce sighed again. "What if I told you," a hesitant pause, "that I moon light as a vigilante?"

_'Could you have phrased that any worse?' He mentally kicked himself._

Katie was wide-eyed and quiet. "Bruce, you're Batman. Bruce Wayne is…." She was smiling. "You **are** Batman."

Honestly, his girlfriend of four months displayed a reaction polar opposite of what he expected. "Yes. You aren't, afraid or angry?"

"No!" She jumped up out of the bed and began rummaging through her purse on the night stand.

Bruce was ecstatic. He felt relieved and even loved. He was so overjoyed he didn't question why Katie was pushing him against the head board and straddling his waist. He didn't question why she starting attacking his mouth with her own, and he didn't notice when she pulled out a pair of handcuffs and a revolver. Before Bruce noticed _anything_, he was cuffed to the bed and had a barrel to his temple. His breath got caught somewhere in the shaft of his throat and Bruce couldn't say anything.

"Oh come on, no surprise?" Katie had wrapped her coat around her naked form and was now sneering down at the other.

"Katie, I don't-" He was so confused.

"My name is **not** Katie, its Kathryn Roseline, what a quinky-dink, eh? I'm one of the reporters Rachael used to work with. We always talked about how we could be related, we looked so much alike. She also ran her mouth about you a lot, too. Always on and on about Bruce Wayne this, Bruce Wayne that—but she also bitched about Batman all the damn time. So suspicious. Whenever I asked questions, she shot me down. I figured it out, eventually.

"When I thought I had all the pieces together she up and died. So I couldn't get a confession out of her." The lack of compassion made Bruce furious. "I made a decision that day, I was going to become Katie Ross and I was going to make you fall madly in love with me." Her face twisted into something of a mock pout.

"Of course I knew you would be on the rebound, all hurt and wounded after losing Rachael. She was 'with' Dent, but everyone knows you were hot for her." She pulled something out from her purse—a tape recorder. "I'm guessing that's why you went bat shit crazy and killed him."

Bruce was ebbing somewhere between heart break and boiling anger. He trusted her and all she wanted was to expose him. Katie, _Kathryn_, was a manipulative two faced bitch and Bruce had trusted her. The detective wasn't sure who he was most angry with, this whore or himself.

"I'm just surprised it took so long for you to sleep with me! Jesus Christ, you little girl. I figured we'd be screwing long before I'd get a confession out of you." She jingled the tape recorder. "Hm, too bad. I bet you would be a great lay." She smirked and cocked her head to the side.

"It won't work, you won't get away with this," Bruce was shaking with rage.

"Oh yes I will. Watch me." With the strength of a professional pitcher Kathryn slammed the cold metal revolver against the bound man's skull with a dull thud.

Bruce woke up hours later with Alfred standing over him with a lock pick.

**XiiX**

Kathryn had hardly made it out of the pent house before she started making phone calls. "I've got it, John. It took four months but I've got a recorded confession."

"Who is it? Who is Batman!?" The man chattered on the other end of the line.

"You're going to have to wait like the rest of the public." She grinned devilishly and lit a cigarette. "Just start flooding the papers with my name and get me on every TV in the nation. I'm gunna be fuckin' huge." A funnel of smoke flushed out of her nostrils like a dragon.

* * *

THANK YOU


	7. Scheduled Program

Scheduled Program-Chapter Six

**Warnings:** Chapter six is rated PG-13 for moderate gore

* * *

Depression had seized the criminal master mind. He had found purchase at some poor guy's house and had told his lackeys to scatter until he wanted them again.

After the night in the hanger Joker didn't know what his next move was. For a man without a plan, he was _always _prepared. Joker _always _knew what he wanted and he _always_ knew how to get it and he _never_ doubted himself. Now, however, all he could think about was _who_ he wanted. How he was going to get it, was the plan he didn't have.

A hodgepodge collection of knives, matches, and needles were strewn about the living room where the clown sat on the floor. He had to keep his hands busy.

"Of all the ridiculous things," he grumbled to himself and dropped the dead weight of his arms between his legs. He was sitting Indian-style and rocking slightly, trying to think, or to stop thinking. Huffing the clown straightened his legs from underneath him and stood up to fetch a pop sickle out of the garage freezer.

"Ya know," Joker said with a sigh as he swung open the freezer door, "you're the only person I've talked to in weeks." He looked down at the owner the house, who he had affectionately named 'Poppy' and placed both hands on his frigid cheeks. The man's skin was now stiff with frost and a cracking noise could be heard as the clown pulled his face around for a better look. "But you won't be telling anyone about my babbling, will you?" He smiled and dropped the frozen skull with a thud. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

The criminal leaned into the freezer and pulled out a purple pop sickle, seeing as all of the red, yellow and green were gone. Without closing the door on the freezer, Joker leaned up against the white wall of the box. "Who woulda thought the best sex of my life would lose me my desire for mayhem? I just don't feel like killing anything. I need a psychologist, or something, 'cause this isn't healthy." He glanced down at the human ice-pop and wondered how he had managed to shove a grown man in there like that without ripping limbs apart.

"You're no fun, Poppy." Joker shut the door and walked back into the living room while sucking on the frozen purple ice. He glanced at the TV which had been left on just because Joker didn't turn it off, and tried to interpret the corny soap opera. The random sitcom served as comforting white noise until a familiar name flooded the audio.

"Interrupting your scheduled program to bring you The Batman's true identity!" With a force that should have twisted his neck clean off, Joker spun around to glare at the screen. "Kathryn Rosaline, local reporter from _The Gotham Times,_ has a recorded confession," said a stuffy news anchor behind a large desk. "She will be playing the tape tonight at 11pm, but with who is still up in the air." The image on the screen flashed from the news anchor to a slim brunette talking and laughing with a man.

The sound from this image was muted as the anchor from before continued to talk. "Seven news programs across the country have offered large sums to get Rosaline on their schedule. She says the story will go to the highest bid-" the screen shattered and faded to black as the livid clown chucked a paper weight at the screen.

"I'll kill her. I will. I'll kill her." He chattered crazily and rapidly pulled up his coat. It was nearly nine in the morning, not a practical time to be walking around Gotham.

Growling the clown looked for the home phone. He laid his arms against the counter top and slid everything off and papers and dinner plates went flying in his rage. "Where's the fucking phone," he screeched madly and slung a ball-shaped centerpiece into the wall where it stuck.

He whipped a T-shirt off of the shelf by the door and found his prize. Practically pouncing on the device Joker angrily jabbed his gloved fingers at the numbers and dialed one of his soldiers. "We've got things to do."

Hardly an hour later a van pulled up to 'Poppy's' house and drove Joker away.

**XiiX**

Bruce was pacing his living room so vigorously a dug-in track would soon start to swallow the carpeted floor where he walked it.

Considering this was only the day after Kathryn had chained Bruce up, she had done a good job of flooding the media with her news.

"Maybe we should take Lucius' advice and just leave Gotham? You shouldn't be in the city when the tape is played on national television. Everyone knows where you live!"

"No, I can't. I-" He was promptly cut off.

"What the hell, Bruce? This has gotten out of control. That woman will sell your secret to those media sharks and you will be put in jail! Bruce, you will be thrown in jail with all the criminals YOU put away!" He was raving and hysteric. He was afraid.

"That's not it, Alfred!" Bruce clenched his fists and pressed his white knuckles onto the back of the sofa for support. He leaned there for a second and growled with his head down. "The last time someone tried to go to the media with my identity, The Joker held a hospital ransom and demanded that the little bastard be killed. I don't think he will be as kind this time."

The butler was silent for a moment. Joker had not been so much as uttered since the night Bruce came home. The subject of the criminal clown had become a sticky one, and hearing his name now pulled Alfred back slightly. "He'll try to kill her."

"If she's lucky," the millionaire sighed and looked down. "I don't know what to do."

"You cannot try to save her, Bruce. You hear me?" The older man swiftly stepped closer to his sergeant son. "There will be cameras and police everywhere. That girl is being guarded just about as well as the President and you know it. If you seek her out, you will be caught. You know this." Alfred was unleashing every arsenal in his 'I'm old and wise' playbook to convince his young friend to listen to his pleas.

The young master didn't say anything, he didn't blink.

"I've already packed our bags. The flight leaves tonight at 9:15 PM." Alfred frowned. His friend wasn't responding to anything he was saying. "I scheduled an early flight because it airs at eleven. You will be there, promise me."

Bruce turned around and walked away without saying anything. Moments later Alfred heard the soft hum of one of the four sports cars being driven away.

**XiiX**

Bruce rolled to a stop outside the gated storage unit, one that Wayne Enterprise owned. The facility was kept under lock and key. After opening the eight foot fence and driving through, he parked behind a large tin crate to hide the flashy red car.

He needed some time as Batman, and not as Bruce Wayne.

After entering the clandestine storage unit he made his way to a table and pressed his palms into the cold glass top. Thinking for minutes, without moving a muscle, Bruce felt every civil duty swell up and he knew what he had to do.

Hurriedly, before he could change his mind, Bruce pulled the bulky bat suit on. He knew where he needed to go and once the Dark Knight was in control, he straddled his bike and took off in the direction of the news station.

Five blocks away from his destination, Batman was unable to sift through the streets. The crowd surrounding the skyscraper was massive. The super hero growled and pulled off into an alley before he was noticed by any member of the eccentric group.

Leaving the bike behind and hidden, the vigilante scaled the side of one of the neighboring buildings to get a bird's eye view. For a good two miles surrounding the news tower people were in hysterics. Some were chanting while others raised signs appraising Kathryn's cause. "Beat the Bat Out of Gotham", "Down with the Dark Knight" and "Dent Didn't Die in Vain" were some of the more creative signs. Others were dressed in homemade costumes, mostly of Batman. Though, other costumes were of another familiar face—Joker. There were five members of the crowd who resembled Joker and his flamboyant clothing and makeup. The five imposters made Bruce's stomach sink.

**XiiX**

Kathryn was sucking on her fourth cigarette and patting her pocket where the one and only recording now was. She had copied it from the tape recorder onto a CD and then destroyed the original. She wanted to make sure she was the only one with this story; this was her big break and no one else's.

If only her ambition was enough to subdue her nerves. It was all she could do just to keep her hands from shaking. The girl was nervous beyond sanity.

Ten police guards marched around the broadcasting room for her protection. Gotham remembered the pandemonium that broke out when someone last tried to reveal Batman's identity. The entire room, consisting of Kathryn, Douglas James, the tech crew and a select high paying audience, felt the thick air of fear creeping along. They were all afraid of Joker.

The reporter inhaled one last lung full of acrid smoke and then squashed the bud on the floor. Douglas James, the news stations oldest and leading anchor, would be the host for the program. He sat down behind a desk that was beside the cushioned chair Kathryn sat in now.

"OK, we're rolling live in five, four, three, two-" The cameras were on.

"Hello, it is 11pm central and I am sitting here with Kathryn Rosaline to bring you the story of the century." Doug tapped some papers on the desk and grinned at the camera before turning to shake his guest's hand.

She took his hand and nodded, "Doug." The woman had swallowed her nerves and was not shaking anymore.

"So, please, don't keep the world waiting. Tell us about your journey to learn the truth. What made you do this?" Doug leaned in, like the rest of the viewing world, and listened.

Kathryn felt a twinge of enjoyment as all of the lime light sparkled on her. "Harvey Dent's untimely death. He was a real hero and Batman killed him. This could not go unpunished. Dent was a friend and a leader to us all; Dent was the best thing to happen to this city and Batman took him away.

Shortly after his funeral, I had a short list complied of possible murderers. Once I had my list, I went to work and I haven't looked back since."

**XiiX**

Outside the tower the city was watching as the image was amplified on the face of the building. The crowd had grown quiet, only to whistle and applaud Kathryn periodically.

Bruce was trying to drown out her voice. He didn't want to be reminded of how he had been used. Instead, Batman was looking across the sea of people, and over all of the surrounding buildings, keeping a keen eye out for any sign of disaster.

Just as Kathryn finished her list of criteria each of her suspects all had, the five Joker-look-alikes darted toward the building at once. They did it from different sides of the crowd, none of them within 60 yards of one another. They couldn't have seen the others move, and yet they all lurched forward in sync and with purpose. The Dark Knight felt his haunches go up; something was about to happen.

Suddenly the five imposters stopped moving, each now standing only 30 yards from the tower. Twenty yards ahead there were more onlookers, and the remaining ten was made up of the police line. Sighing in relief Bruce calmed himself, thinking that the five clowns wouldn't be able to pass the security line.

He was wrong.

An intense flash cracked the atmosphere; a thunderous clap followed and the crowd crippled. The bottom floor of the building had imploded and dust and shrapnel from the explosion was flung up into the sky, and into the crowd. The twenty yards of onlookers served as a tight buffer line for the look-a-likes and they went unharmed. With the cover of the explosion the clowns darted into the building. Panic infected all of the onlookers and as the massive crowd began to churn and run away, the five clowns ran forward, unnoticed by the wounded security line.

Inside the tower everyone held their breath as the entire foundation ruptured. The cameras remained rolling but the lights were snuffed out. The room suddenly became silent except for the sounds of people stirring in their chairs. Some were hopefully waiting for the lights to blink back on, or for the police force to tell them it was okay, but most were already fear-stricken.

"Everyone sit down!" One of the ten police officers shouted from his position at the east exit. "Remain calm and seated." He approached the stage to look out of the window behind it. "Nothing is going to happen; the situation is under control."

Suddenly the officer collapsed face first on the floor with a thud. He had been shot in the back of the head.

Panic surged through the room again as the audience attempted to stand and run out, but following the death of the officer six clowns walked into the room. The first five came in shooting, quickly popping off the remained nine guards, while the last walked in clapping.

No one could see the new-comers, the lights were still off and only the stage, where the light from outside was shining through the window, was visible.

"We've interrupted your scheduled program to bring you," three spot lights spun around then located Joker, "me!" The audience collectively screamed and the lights were flashed on again.

* * *

THANK YOU


	8. An Example

Example-Chapter Seven

**Warnings**: Chapter seven is rated **NC-17** for graphic torture and character death.

* * *

"Now," the criminal walked over to the dead police officer who had been shot by the window, "listen to the nice man with the badge and stay seated." He giggled and moved the corps' jaw up and down before coldly dropping the dead man's face and standing. "And, for our viewing audience that is a part of the police force…know that I have three more bombs positioned in this building. So no hanky-panky, or this entire room full of people will go out with a bang!" He flashed a shiny red button on the inside of his coat to add to the threat.

The five other clowns, who were dressed like their leader, now stood at the exits with guns. No one could enter or leave.

"Okkkk, lets get this party started! And where better to start than with the guest of honor?" Like an eerie owl Joker turned his head slowly, glared at Kathryn and then swiped his tongue over his lips.

The reporter was terrified. Her heart was beating out of her chest and her eyes were glazed over with fear as the adrenaline took hold. She stood up to run away, but the Clown Prince of Crime shoved Doug away and threw her small body behind the desk where the host had been.

The criminal tossed Doug's chair away and pushed the woman up against the table. He forced her to bend over so that her arms outstretched toward the crowd and her chin was resting on the table top.

The entire viewing world was now watching Kathryn cry hysterically.

"Please, don't hurt me. Pleasepleaseplease, don't hurt me!" Her speech was thick with mucus and sobs and her face became red and puffy. The camera, now being manned by one of the henchmen, did a close up of her face.

"Hurt you? HURT YOU? What a great idea!" The villain squealed and drew out a knife. Before the reporter knew what was happening he had stabbed the stout blade through the back of her hand and through the table.

The woman howled in pain and tried to jerk her other hand away. "No! No! I won't tell anyone, I swear! No no no no no!" Her long brown hair was now clinging to her tear streaked face.

Joker looked at the squalling girl without pity. He withdrew another knife and steadied Kathryn's hand on the table as he took aim.

**XiiX**

Bruce watched in horror as her torture was broadcasted on the face of the building. His stomach grew sour when he realized that this was also being played in every living room across the county. Everyone was watching Joker mangle Kathryn. Batman didn't waste any more time and began making his way toward the building.

**XiiX**

"Where is the recording?" He looked down at Kathryn without a smile. This torture was not for his amusement, he only wanted to turn her into an example. No one would ever try to come forward with this information ever again.

"My pocket, my pocket. It's in my pocket." She stuttered and choked, finding it hard to form words into cohesive sentences.

Kathryn and the producers had planned this for the segment. After she had shared with everyone her story she would dramatically pull out the only copy and pop it into the recorder herself. However, now, the only copy was in the hands of Joker.

He held the CD, inspected it for a moment, and then ripped the disk in two.

"You're an evil monster!" Some brave soul from the audience shouted.

"Evil? I'm not evil! This tramp is evil." He swung around to glare at the audience. They gasped and the brave soul remained anonymous. "She is the one who wants to spill secrets, that is evil." His green eyes strained and glared down the entire audience. "And everyone knows how to deal with evil."

His gaze drifted back to the girl pinned to the table and smirked with malice. She was sobbing into her arm, rolling around on the fabric and smearing her makeup. "You stupid bitch," the crazed clown hissed into her ear. "You think you can hurt him, embarrass him?" He grabbed a fist full of Kathryn's hair and pulled back forcefully. He was standing directly behind the woman and pressed against her backside as a result. "I bet you tried to seduce him with this body, didn't you? I'm going to humiliate you on national television just like you were going to do to him, you shameless whore." He hissed into her ear and threw her head down onto the desk.

With a third knife Joker drew the blade over Kathryn's back and the crowd screamed again as he cut away her blouse. His slashing was quick and sloppy. He nicked her skin in several places as he slashed again and again. "Is this how you imagined it? Your 15 minutes of fame?" Joker shouted angrily as he pulled bloody rags away from her now bare chest.

"No stop!" Kathryn tried to jerk away but only torn an uglier wound on her palms. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Joker continued to hack away at Kathryn's black pencil skirt until she stood in only her bra and panties. "There, don't you feel better like this? This must be more natural for you." Jokers' voice was deeper, truly evil and vicious.

"Nooo," She moaned miserably. The pain was becoming too much; she was going into shock.

"No? You're not comfortable?" He was starting to enjoy torturing the woman, despite his best efforts. He cut away her remaining clothing until she was completely nude. "There you go Gotham, get a good look now while she's still in one piece!" He smeared blood across her bar breast. "You call me evil, well evil recognizes evil and this slut has it bad. I'm going to take care of it though, because Batman never could kill anyone."

He picked up one half of the jagged CD and pressed it against Kathryn's mouth. "Speak no evilllll!" With the serrated edge of the disk he sliced open the girl's cheek.

Kathryn kicked her legs and thrashed on the table, worsening her injured hands as a liberal down pore of blood pooled under her chin and onto the table. The reporter sputtered on her own blood as some of the crimson fluid dripped backwards down her throat. She moaned miserably and shook in agony.

He took the disk and pressed it against the other cheek, dragging it slowly. Each slothful ministration of forward and backward sawing never had enough pressure to finish the deed. But, seven strokes in and Kathryn was a writhing mess of shrill screams and tears.

"Almost there," he grinned through clenched teeth and snapped his hand back with one last slice and her mouth was shredded. He pushed Kathryn's face into the table and rubbed her nose in her own blood. The red creamy substance mixed with saliva and tears was smeared all across the table by the time Joker was satisfied.

The audience members were going mad. Some of them cried for the release of Kathryn, and some had stood up to shout, but most of them were too scared to move. Others had become nauseous and the odor of vomit was pungent.

"But she's evil!" Joker whined in mockery at the crowd and stomped his foot childishly. "Speak no evil, hear no evil and see no evil," he sang and twirled around on stage. When the clown stopped his dancing he turned to look at the camera. "Are you all hanging off your seats waiting in suspense? I hope so! This is good stuff," he pointed to the sobbing shell of a person left on the table.

"Oh, but don't get your panties in a bunch over that piece of trash!" The criminal raised his brow and lapped at the corner of his mouth. "She's just an example of what NOT to do. Don't try to out The Batman!" He cackled and raised his hands up in laughter. "You should take notes; there might be a pop quiz!"

After saying that, the clown spun around on one heel and stuck his hand in his pocket with a surprised look on his face. "What do we have here?" He gasped and pulled out a roll of duct tape, a box of matches and lighter fluid. Throwing half of the CD on the table near Kathryn's face he took aim. With one eye shut and his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth Joker squirted the flammable fluid onto the disk. The killer clown then lifted up the girl's blood soaked face and shoved a saturated sliver of the CD into her torn mouth. She was too far gone to realize her new danger.

"Oh, I love this part. It makes me all warm inside," he chirped in a delightfully dark voice and struck the match. Like a delicate candy treat Joker plopped the lit match into Kathryn's widened mouth and watched as the disk caught flame. Before the girl could scream the Clown Prince had her mouth taped shut.

"Speak no evil, ever again," he said with glowing eyes. Joker ignored the muffled screams of agony and moved about his merry way looking through his pockets for a pair of bolt cutters.

**XiiX**

Meanwhile Batman was sniffing around the perimeter of the building, trying to find a way in without the police seeing him.

"Hey!" A voice grizzled with age called from behind.

He'd been caught. It was Gordon.

"Can you get me in?" The Dark Knight asked in his gruff voice.

"I think so. Follow me." Gordon led him behind a fire truck and toward the back. A door was caved in and caution tap was strapped around it. "The fire station said this entrance is a death trap. They won't let anyone use it, I figured you wouldn't mind."

Batman was about to walk through the caved in threshold when the police chief spoke up again.

"Did she really know? Was she really going to tell the world who you are?"

The vigilante stood with his back facing the other man for a long while, but eventually said nothing and entered the building.

Walking through the lobby level of the crumbled building gave Bruce the time to think. Since the news station had been swarmed by Joker, he hadn't stopped to _think _about Joker. He'd been thinking about how to get in, and how to stop this but had ignored the largest obstacle standing in his way.

Batman's gloved hand clenched into a fist as memories from the hanger came racing back.

_'He saved my life that night. I should be dead; he could have killed me, or even followed me home. I was at his mercy and he only gave me what I wanted. I did want it.' _

Bruce sighed and felt something in him twitch. He was not comfortable looking in, self-reflection was always hard. Inside there was pain and death and loneliness but now there was something else and Bruce needed to figure it out before he reached the broadcasting station.

**XiiX**

There were only three exits in the broadcasting room. One clown stood station at the east and one at the west exit. Two watched the south exit, which was the elevator, and one was manning the camera. Each of the five had fully automatic guns strapped around their necks, and they were all too eager to use their weapons.

One of the clowns at the elevator noticed the bar on the floor scale was jumping up. Second floor, third floor, and further the bar climbed. "We got company." His partner took notice and stepped back.

Fifteenth floor, sixteenth floor, the imposter clowns squeezed the guns in their hands and readied themselves for whoever might be on the other side. Twenty second floor…ding…and the elevator had reached their floor.

"You ready for this?" One of the thugs asked in a whisper, but the other didn't have the time to answer before the silver doors divided.

No one was there. The elevator was empty.

"The hell," one of the clowns approached the elevator with his gun leading the way. He entered the small box and inspected it further until his was satisfied.

"Well?" The other man asked from outside the elevator. His friend opened his mouth to tell him there wasn't a damn thing in here, when Bruce dropped down from the above compartment.

Batman kicked the imposter clown in the head and then guided his face into the bar of the elevator. Before the second henchmen could react the Knight threw a taser-like throwing star and the man dropped.

Neither the audience nor Joker had noticed the late arrival. Bruce had the unfortunate privilege of watching as the Clown Price clipped the last flap of skin from Kathryn's ears. This was sickening.

"All that's left is _see_ no evil." Joker snickered and took hold of one of the blades in Kathryn's hand. With the hilt in his hand he rotated the knife from within her palm and then ripped it out. After repeating this on the other hand he tossed one away. Pointing the reddened tip of the other blade at the white of Kathryn's eye the criminal was ready to end it.

"Stop!" Bruce stepped into visibility and began approaching the stage. "Put the knife down, Joker. You don't want these people." Bruce was thankful for his mask because his facial expressions faltered as he talked about they wanted.

Kathryn turned her head to look at the Dark Knight. Bruce could hardly recognize her through the torture and blood, her face was too mangled.

Joker grinned warmly and twirled the knife around between his lithe fingers. "I don't know. This one really needs to die." Before the Dark Knight could argue Kathryn's life the insane clown had slashed her jugular and cut her life short. Her body fell onto the desk. Now only the knives at her palms were holding her up; she looked like a corporate female Jesus.

Bruce felt it right away, or maybe Batman felt it, but there was relief. The vigilante hated himself for it, but he was glad to see Kathryn dead on the floor. _'I am like Joker.' _The superhero felt sick.

"Now," the green haired man leaned on the desk, sticking his elbows in the now dead reporter's blood, "what were you saying?" He batted his eye lashes and swayed his butt in an inappropriate way.

Batman gritted his teeth. "Let these people go, and I'll go with you. I'm offering a trade." He felt nauseas and not because Kathryn had just been slaughtered, but because he was relieved she had been silenced.

"Hmm, and what a fair trade it is." Joker was glowing; tonight had turned out better than he had anticipated. He turned to the camera and cracked one of his wide and wheezing smiles. "Ok, that's our show. My costars here will return our studio audience but I'm afraid I won't be signing any autographs," he said and the camera was switched off.

Bruce watched as each member of the audience was filed out of the station and down to the fourth floor. There they would jump onto a rescue matt that the fire station had assembled. However, it wouldn't be long until the police found a suitable entrance and stormed the place. Until then, Joker and Batman were alone.

* * *

THANK YOU


	9. Break Through

BREAK THROUGH-CHAPTER EIGHT

**Warning:** Chapter eight is rated R for language and suggestive themes between two men

* * *

The room was now empty, except for the Gotham's two most infamous men. Bruce narrowed his eyes but remained in place. Since their last encounter he wasn't sure how to approach the situation.

"Stay right there." The hero warned angrily. He needed to stay aggressive, strong, in control. He wouldn't let Joker get the upper hand no matter how disorientated he had become.

Joker took a big breath and rolled his eyes, as if he were sighing in defeat, but then took off like a shot. "Catch me if you can!" The criminal giggled and was gone in a flash. He might not have been very strong, but he could move.

Bruce ran after the shifty man through office after office and into a hallway until he reached a large room full of grey cubicles. The masked man growled in frustration. He knew Joker was in this room, he could feel it.

The cubicles themselves were hard to see; the lights were off in this room. The Dark Knight felt like a rat sifting through a maze in search of a chunk of cheese.

"I always liked hide and seek," Joker squeaked from somewhere within the room.

Bruce twisted around to get a 360 degree view, but didn't see anything. "No more games, Joker! You're going to Arkham."

"Yadda yadda yadda."Again the hero couldn't pin-point the location of the other man's voice. "I don't wanna talk about Arkham. Let's talk about youuu and meee," he sang. "And how we're going to kill some time."

"You're sick." His voice held strong and threatening.

"Have you thought about it?" It was a simple question, but Bruce was shivering before he could stop himself. "I know I have. Any time I want to get _in the mood _I just think of you, inside me, and all those pretty sounds you made. It gets me going every time."

The Dark Knight had resorted to standing in place, waiting to spot any movement. Keeping his mind focused on the task was becoming difficult. Bruce tired to push thoughts of that night aside; he couldn't.

"Do you remember how you begged me to suck your dick, Batsy? I do. I also remember you saying you wanted to fuck me. Hmm, and you did. You fucked me so goooood," he squealed.

Bruce shuddered and started to grind his teeth. This talk was driving him crazy. "Shut up."

"Noooo! You can't make me give it up. I'll never stop _cherishing_ that night." The voice was closer now. "It felt so amazing." Closer still his disembodied voice grew. "I know you felt it, too. You liked it, and you want it again."

Before Bruce could react to the voice closing in, he was pushed to the floor with Joker on top of him. The crafty clown snatched up the corners of Batman's cape and held an iron grip on it. The super hero could not move his arms or legs.

"Tell me you remember!" The criminal licked his lips and yelled desperately, shaking his adversary. "Tell me you remember everything. You have to remember, you promised."

The Dark Knight lit up in a rage. "Get off of me!" He wasn't going to be a victim again.

The Clowns pasty face twisted irritably. That was not the answer he wanted. "Tell me you remember, goddamn it." He swung his head down and it collided with Batman's nose.

Bruce's vision went spotty from the blow. "Fuck you, you twisted freak! How could anyone forget that?"

Joker grinned in suggestive triumph. "That's more like it."

"Shut up!" He thrashed around wildly and his shoulders slammed against the floor. He glared up at the criminal and hated the look of satisfaction on the other mans' face. "I _want_ to forget! I'd do _anything_ to forget." He said it trying to hurt the clown; it worked.

"Kathryn." The mad man said dejectedly. "Look where that got you! She hurt you. She used you!" Joker shouted and almost chastised the Bat. "Did you miss the sea of animals out there? None of them understand you, or accept you. They all hate you; they want to see you fall; no matter what you do for them, they will hate you."

Bruce tried to ignore the hurtful words from Joker, but he knew it was all true. He just wanted the criminal to stop talking. He stiffened and shut his eyes, trying to think of a way out of this.

"I love you." Joker said suddenly when Batman stopped moving.

"You're insane!" Bruce shouted angrily, coming back to reality.

"Actually, I don't really know what love feels like." He continued as if Batman hadn't said anything. "But, I want you more than I've ever wanted anything else in this shitty world. So that has to means something, right?" He cocked his head to the side as he looked down at his foe.

"You. Are. Crazy." Bruce gritted his teeth.

"So are youuuu," Joker sung with a hint of laughter. "We're two peas in a warped pod, Batsy. Don't you get it?" His scared smile widened.

"I'm nothing like you!" The Knight tried to straighten up and jump forward as if he planned to bite the clown. He was sick of this argument.

"Yes you are," Joker said darkly. "Don't try to hide it from me! You're not nearly as interested in saving the innocent as you are with hurting the criminals. You get off on cracking a few ribs before you throw us away, don't you?"

Bruce growled angrily. He wasn't like that, he wanted to help people.

"Sure, you justify it by saying," Joker changed his voice to sound something of mock righteousness, "it's a necessary evil. I have to hurt them to save the good people." He narrowed his green eyes, "I don't believe it. You're just as fucked as I am."

"You don't know anything about me!"

"I know you looked a little too happy when Kathryn kicked the bucket."

Bruce opened his mouth to deny it, but Joker was right. He felt sick all over again.

"It's alright. She was a bad guy. She deserved it. That's what you were telling yourself, huh?"

Batman started shaking with blind rage. He couldn't think straight he was so angry. "Shut up! Just shut up!" He couldn't even deny it; all Bruce could do was yell.

"I knew it." Joker giggled.

"What the fuck do you want from me? I know the people will never appreciate me; I don't just do this for them, I need it too; and I am happy you killed Kathryn because I know I couldn't do it!"

Joker kissed Bruce solidly and lingered there until the hero exhaled. "What a break through! You're so beautiful like this. Just tonight, be honest with me, like that, because I might not get another chance."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm with you, silly." He rolled his eyes as if he were talking to a slow child who couldn't keep up. "I'm_ not_ escaping. They'll catch me."

Bruce's intellect kicked in at once and he realized that the criminal had never planned on escaping. His features must have amused Joker because the clown smiled wider.

"Everything I did tonight was for you. I needed to protect you from that whore, and from the city. Think about it, tonight you saved all of those snobs in the audience, and you captured The Joker, they'll be grateful for a while longer."

_ 'He's sacrificing himself for me.'_ Batman couldn't believe it. "You're serious?"

The criminal shrugged. "Even a clown is serious sometimes."

Bruce glared up at the villain. He couldn't describe what he was feeling, but he didn't have to. "Thank you."

Before the masked man could finish the last syllable of his sentence Joker had abandoned his iron grip on the cape and sealed their mouths together.

Bruce mumbled "hold on" to the other man. Just because he was grateful didn't mean he wanted _this_. However, Joker refused to acknowledge his request and slid his body against the vigilante.

The Prince of Crime tried to avoid that pointed tip on Batman's cowl and their teeth scraped together but the messy kiss was just what they needed.

"This is," _kiss_, "crazy." The Knight mumbled against red lips.

"Just enjoy it, Batsy."

Bruce, against his better judgment, took the advice. He jerked to the side and nipped and sucked at Joker's white neck until the clown moaned. Batman growled approvingly at the other man's mewling and flipped Joker over onto his back. If he was going to do this he needed to be in control.

The criminally insane clown squealed delightfully. "I like it when you get all aggressive and controlling." He arched up and mashed his ripped mouth against Batman's. Bruce parted his lips and stabbed his tongue inside Jokers torn mouth. He had the green haired man writhing and moaning like a virgin and suddenly the hero didn't think this was so crazy.

"Fuck, you're a good kisser, Bats." Joker panted and pitched his hips up to grind against Batman's stiff suit.

Bruce glanced down at the criminal with animalistic eyes. The intense stare made Joker squirm and he licked his ruby red lip. Batman growled and ducked down for another kiss but a noise jerked them apart.

"Joker, we are closing in. We have the building surrounded and a team is coming to you now. Go quietly and no one else will get hurt." It was Gordon on the buildings intercom.

Bruce looked down at the wanted man. Joker just smiled plainly and it was uncharacteristic of the ostentatious clown. His smile was not extreme or sinister or mocking. It was just simple, like he was satisfied and ready to give up. Bruce didn't like it.

"It was nice while it lasted, eh?" He rolled out from under the super hero to stand up and Batman followed.

"Here," Joker gingerly reached up and wiped at Batman's face with a green handkerchief.

Amazingly enough Bruce didn't flinch away at the intimate gesture. He let the other man dab at his mouth and chin.

"Ya've got paint all over. I think someone might notice." With that said the Joker spun around and put his hands behind his back.

"Thank you…What are you doing?" Batman asked quietly.

"Cuff me, stupid. They'll be here any second. We can't be rolling around on the floor when they show up, now can we? They'd think you really lost it then."

"But you'll…I can't…"

"Batsy, you can do it or they can. I bet you'll be nicer about it. " Joker wiggled his fingers behind his back and winked.

Unwillingly Bruce pulled out a pair of handcuffs from his belt and locked them around the criminal's wrists. Joker leaned against the vigilante's chest and sighed. "They're coming to talk me away, ha-ha." Batman frowned. He gave the other man a departing kiss and left just as lights from the police forces' guns flooded the room.

* * *

THANK YOU


	10. Bat Out of Hell

Chapter Nine Bat Out Of Hell

**Warnings:** Chapter nine is rated PG-13 (just to be safe) for action/violence and moderate language

* * *

Bruce watched from a shaded alley as an entire tactical team led Joker into an armored car. He felt a pang of regret, as if he owed Joker one. _'It doesn't matter' _Bruce thought to himself, _'Joker will break out of Arkham eventually. He always does.'_

Just then a man in a trench coat walked up to the alley but faced the street. It was Gordon. "Thanks for your help tonight. The hostages told us you made a trade. You saved a lot of lives tonight." He didn't make mention of Kathryn and never glanced behind his back. "I just got done talking to the judge. Federal courts have decided that Joker should be executed by lethal injection. I thought you might want to know."

An ice pike swung through his heart. Joker was going to die.

**XiiX**

"Do you believe in Hell?" The sinister criminal asked happily as he was being hauled into the armed car. "Hmm? What about you?" He jerked his head in the direction of one of the burly swat team members.

"I think there's a Hell for you," one of the men said coldly and crossed his meaty arms over his broad chest.

"Do you think there are bats in Hell? I hope so." He had already been informed that these people planned to kill him. Oh, well. Joker would try to escape but, if he couldn't, well, he knew he hadn't spent his last night of freedom in vain. He giggled quietly at first but his excitement boiled, like it always did, until he was splitting at the seams.

"Shut up!" The more talkative guard said cruelly and punched the mad man on the side of the face. It was a long drive to Arkham and everyone was high strung. "If it were up to me you wouldn't get the needle. No, if it were up to me I'd make you suffer."

"OOOhhh." Joker shivered in mock fear. "Do you even know how to make a man like me suffer?" His coffee stained teeth glistened as he smiled.

**XiiX**

The armored car was less than a mile from Arkham Asylum and it looked like the voyage was going to come to a peaceful end.

Without warning a rumbling explosion followed by unsteady driving conditions tossed the guards, who were not bound like Joker, into the wall.

"Whoo-hoo-hoo!" Joker howled excitedly as the car tipped over and slid against the pavement on its side. The clown was now suspended upside down, his hair was sticking up and blood rushed to his face, though no one could see that through the paint. "This just keeps getting better and better!"

"What the hell did you do?" One of the guards, the other was unconscious, asked blurrily from the floor.

"Meee?" The clown shrieked incredulously. "How could I do anything? I've been right here!"

A firm thud resonated off the metal haul of the car followed by two more. It sounded like someone was slapping the frame. Silence followed.

"What was that?" The guard looked up skeptically.

An explosion of metal shrapnel, fire and smoke blasted through the armored car and blew a relatively small hole into its side.

Joker giggled happily and would have clapped his hands if they were free. The second guard was now also unconscious and laying in a heap on the floor. It looked like he might have earned some first degree burns around his wrists and forearms, probably trying to block the blow from his core and face.

"Helloooooo? Anyone out there?" Joker snickered loudly and wiggled side to side.

No one responded.

From the darkness several steal throwing stars sliced through the air and severed Jokers metal cuffs at his wrists and legs. The criminal fell without grace, landing mostly on his face. "Oaff." He rubbed his head and tried to peer out into the night. He could see no one.

Joker looked down just as he heard the familiar clap of a cape. The throwing stars at his feet weren't bat-shaped. "Batsy?"

He got no response. Joker stood up and tried to shake off the feelings of dizziness. "Are you there?" He stumbled out of the busted car and heard sirens in the background. He had no time to wait around. "I guess that makes us even, Batsy!"

**XiiX**

Bruce, though it pained him, remained in the shadows. He couldn't step out. What would he say? He had just released a criminal; he had set a rabid dog lose on Gotham. He did this because he couldn't imagine life without Joker.

After he watched the clown stumbled away from the car Bruce revved up his bike and took off. He wasn't sure if he had saved Joker from Hell or put himself there.

* * *

THANK YOU


	11. Epilogue

Epilogue-Chapter Ten

**Warnings:** Chapter ten is rated **NC-17** for explicit sex between two men, strong and suggestive language

* * *

Bruce never worried once that Joker had removed his cowl in that night at the plane hangar. Somehow he knew that Joker wasn't lying when he said he hadn't looked under the mask. He had no reason to believe him, yet Bruce just knew it in his bones.

Though some nights, crimeless nights with a cool wind, when Bruce could stay in, he would look at his windows and wish Joker had discovered his identity.

He would fantasies about waking up in the middle of the night and seeing a clown-shaped figure in the moonlight. He thought about what he would say. Sometimes he would arrest Joker; other times he would imagine what it would feel like to kill him, to put both of them out of their misery; but most of the time Bruce imagined having Joker in his bed.

These thoughts kept him awake at night and vigilant when he was monitoring the streets. It had been two weeks since Kathryn's death and Jokers escape. The crime fighter expected Joker to celebrate in some macabre way but he hadn't made as much as a blip on the radar. Then, two nights ago, Reese was found dead in the middle of one of Gotham's busiest intersections with his tongue missing.

Bruce only shook his head when he heard about his old employee's death. The man was a lunatic for not leaving town when he had the chance. One would think after the hospital fiasco he would have learned his lesson. Reese's death, much like Kathryn's, was a relief to Bruce, though he would admit that to no one. Well, no one except Joker, who seemed to be doing anything he could to protect Batman.

The millionaire groaned quietly and turned around to put his back to the window. He needed sleep.

**XiiX**

Sometime in the middle of the night Bruce felt a chill enter the room. It was eerie, almost ghost-like, and it stirred him from his sleep.

The window. It was open.

The vigilante whipped the sheets off his legs and glared around the room. He was not alone.

"I'm sorry Bats, I didn't mean to." A genuinely sad voice crept up from the darkness and Jokers crazy shape followed. He emerged from the corner of the room where Bruce had an arm chair. Had he been sitting there, watching Bruce sleep?

"Joker?" Bruce was both happy and frightened. Countless nights of vicious battle created an instinctual fear of Joker, that and the will to overcome the criminal. "What are you doing here?" Every muscle was wound tightly and ready for a fight, ready for something.

The clown licked the corner of his torn mouth. "To, hu, see you, why else?" He came closer to the bed and landed one bent knee on the corner. "I couldn't stay away once I knew. I tried to but my skin just started to crawl, you see!" He scratched at his chest like he needed to remove his clothes and brought his other knee on the bed. He was sitting on his knees with his hands on his chest. He looked like he was beseeching forgiveness.

"How did you find out?" Bruce couldn't believe that Joker had betrayed him.

"That little weasel Reese!" Jokers voiced dipped low again, viciously so, and his face hardened with hatred. "He told me before I could cut out his tongue! That pathetic squealer, I didn't even want to know. I didn't ask him! He gave up the goods right away!" The clown scrambled up Bruce's body and gripped his shoulders. "I didn't want him to tell me, I didn't want to know." He whispered into the host's ear sounding more distraught that ever before.

"I believe you."

Joker straightened himself up and pulled back slightly so that he could properly look at Bruce Wayne for the first time. "I think I always knew I just didn't want to see it. I didn't want the fun to be over."

The two men sat there for seconds on seconds in the silence. The millionaire was sure this was the first time Joker had remained quiet for so long. It was nice. Much like their first intimate encounter at the plane hangar Joker sat with his legs wrapped around Bruce's middle and Bruce was propped up slightly. This time, however, there were no rope binds and no threats.

Bruce leaned forward and kissed Joker.

This was nothing like the first time. Joker didn't force it; he didn't mash his mouth and teeth against the other man, he didn't make Bruce struggle for it. Joker dipped his head back and moaned into the kiss. He turned into putty and let his adversary lead this dance.

Suddenly both men were all hands. They pawed at one another feverishly and all over. Joker's hands flew to Bruce's jaw and hair while Batman roamed the curves and contours of Jokers abdomen through his signature garb. They touched everywhere they had been denied in the past.

They separated long enough for Bruce to rasp out, "clothes, off," and then he started attacking Jokers neck with his mouth. "Your throat is fucking gorgeous." He dragged his teeth over the clowns Adams Apple.

"Hehehe, yeea" Joker was out of breath already, "I remember you, uh, liked my throat quite a bit, Brucey. Do'ya want to choke me again? I would let you." He started grinding in the other man's lap.

"Not tonight." The host said shortly but Joker caught the implication—there would be other nights. "I told you to take off your clothes." He growled and sucked on the criminal's neck while blindly tearing at his jacket.

"Hmm, so impatient." Joker said huskily in the other man's ear before pushing back to have room enough to shed a few layers.

Bruce leaned back and watched the Clown Prince strip for him on his lap. It was incredibly erotic.

Joker peeled back his jacket with a wink and raised his ass just enough to rock back down onto Bruce's erection. He didn't miss the groan his gentle jutting received. He continued rocking up and down, back and forth, in circles, over his lovers hard on while he unbuttoned his shirt. He was moving like he was riding a mechanical bull.

Bruce had his fists dug into the sheets at both sides as he watched Jokers strip tease. He was so far past feelings of guilt and confusion. Right now he needed this.

The Clown Prince slipped off the button up shirt and Batman moaned at the sight. He had imagined what Jokers abdomen and hips might look like as he gyrated his pelvis but seeing it was almost too much. The tight muscles in Jokers stomach curled and rippled as he rolled back and forth and up and down. He was moving like a belly dancer.

"You, uh, you like that, don't you?" The criminal's tongue lashed at his lips again.

Bruce imagined Joker moving like that with his cock inside the clown's tight ass and growled, "yes."

"You didn't get to see this side of me last time." Joker bit the tip of his left glove and pulled off the leather fabric while his right worked to unfasten his belt.

The host gripped Jokers hips and thumbed the protruding bones. He moaned again as the paste-covered fiend continued to ride against him. "You're better at this than I first gave you credit for," Bruce said a little breathlessly and pitched his own hips into the thrusting.

With his belt off and pants unbuttoned Jokers erection could be seen rising out of the top of his boxer shorts. "Ah, it also helps that you've had a change of heart, Brucey boy." The clown put his hands, one gloved and one bare, over Bruce's that were still on his hips and navigated his pants down.

"Hmm," the millionaire sighed appraisingly as his hands traveled down the other man's hips and thighs. "You're a tease and you're taking too long." Bruce slipped his hand around the small of Jokers back and pulled him forward again.

"Hahahah!" The criminal laughed as he was flipped over onto his back and his pants were ripped off. He groaned as his now naked erection slipped against the silk covered groin of his host. "Where's the fire, Bat-Man?"

"Shut up," said Bruce but without malice. He took full advantage of the new position and gently grabbed Jokers throat again to tip his face back for another kiss. On instinct Bruce ground into the willing body beneath him and ran a hand up a flat taunt chest. It was like being with a woman but so different. He had never been attracted to men before but somehow Joker transcended gender.

The green haired man rutted up and grabbed Bruce's ass. "Are we going to hump each other like teenagers all night or did you have something else in mind?"

"Left hand night stand," Bruce muttered quickly but then darted back to Jokers neck and collar. He didn't even open his eyes.

The clown blindly groped to the left and opened the drawer. His lithe pale arm slipped in and he rummaged around. "Heeey!" He pulled back and revealed a pair of green boxers—_his _boxers. "I'm ashamed to say I forgot I gave these to you." He blinked thoughtfully and laughed at his own sentiment.

"I almost threw them away. That's not why I told you to look in there." Even as Bruce, Batman was still a man of few words.

He stretched again and dug into the drawer. This time he pulled back with a bottle of lubricant. Joker waved the vile in the host's face, "now we're talking."

Bruce snatched the bottle from the clown and glared as if he were contemplating something. "I thought you were going to rape me in the plane hangar."

"Ah, well, the thought _did_ cross my mind." Joker smiled apologetically.

"You could have."

Joker squirmed. He was uncomfortable and unable to fall back on a cruel laugh this time. "I was afraid you'd really hate me if I did that. I wanted to give you something no one else could give you, not take something away. I, hu, I guess I wanted you to like me." The clown looked small as he lay flat against the black sheets with Bruce pressed above him.

"I don't think I could ever like you." The crime fighter did not miss the look of hurt that shot across the other man's face. "But you were right about us. I panicked when I heard that they were going to kill you. The thought—if you died, it's not…I don't like you but there is something."

"That's probably the closest thing people like you and I are going to get to love, Batsy."

"I want you to fuck me," Bruce said gruffly and put the bottle in Jokers hand.

His voice was high and skeptical as he carried on, "_you_ want _me_ to—"

Bruce cut him off immediately. "If it's not you, then I'll have no one. No one else would understand...why I want you to…."

"Take control?"

Bruce didn't say anything. He didn't need to.

The Clown nodded in understanding. "Get on your back." Joker pushed the host gently with his gloved hand and popped the bottle open with his thumb. "Don't worry Batsy, I'm going to take care of you." The clown echoed his own previously spoken words and watched a shiver skip down the other man's frame. "I promise you'll enjoy it."

The millionaire rolled over and lay back on his own bed. He watched as Joker wiggled backwards and sat between his legs. In this dim lighting he could only make out the clowns silhouette as he leaned forward and rubbed a hand up his thigh.

Joker's bare hand was unbelievably soft. The last time his fingers had been scorched from the blaze but now they were smooth and hot as they skirted across his lower stomach. He pulled down Bruce's silk black boxers. "_Relax."_ He tossed the fabric aside and bowed down between the other man's spread legs to lick the underside of his engorged shaft.

Bruce sucked in a sharp breath and his hips jumped. "Tease." His voice adopted some of Batman's gravel.

Joker lapped at him again, this time slower and purposely around the head of his penis. "Hmm, I missed this. I could do this every night, Batsy, if you'd let me." With that his torn mouth descended.

"Ahhm, Joker." The millionaire threw his head back and tried not to pump into the clown's throat.

The green haired man ripped his mouth away but continued to pump Bruce's cock with a lubricant slicked hand. "Don't hold back now. Fuck my mouth." He reached up and grabbed the millionaire's right hand and placed it on his own head. "Fuck my mouth, I want you to."

Bruce pushed Jokers face down on his dick and pumped his hips up. He moved slowly at first just enjoying the feel of Joker's wet hot throat. He missed this, too.

The criminal worked his tongue somewhat awkwardly and saliva pooled down the side of his ripped lips but his mouth remained willing. He moaned around the vigilantes cock and lubed up three of his right fingers.

The millionaire gripped Jokers green hair tightly and started pivoting his hips at a faster pace. "Aha," Bruce gasped as he felt a slick, cool, finger press against his entrance. The pressure wasn't painful, only shocking. Joker's long slender finger slipped in through the tight rings of muscles and it felt euphoric. "_Shit_. Ah, fuck!" He didn't know what direction to throw his hips in, up into Jokers mouth or down to force that finger in deeper.

A second finger was added and Bruce forgot how to breathe. He ground down this time and Jokers fingers grazed his prostate. "Ohh," his voice shook and dropped several octaves. His thrusting became wild as Joker finger-fucked his ass and sucked his cock. "More, _fuck Joker, yes_." Bruce was shameless in his moaning. The criminal twisted the digits and carefully rubbed that spot again. He went rigid and threw his hips up. "Fuck, I'm getting close."

Joker pulled his torn mouth away and gripped the base of Bruce's swollen cock with his gloved hand. "Ah, ta, tah. We can't have tha_t_, baby." He kept his two fingers buried inside the other man and pumped them in and out slowly. "That feel good? Hmm? Tell me you like it."

"_Shit_. Ooh," His voice was shaking. "Yea, yes, that's good. _Fuck_. I like it." Bruce could hear Joker slicking up his shaft with a lubricated hand and his skin was on fire with anticipation.

"You want more?" Jokers voice was uncharacteristically deep with lust.

The host just whined in response.

"Tell me you want my cock inside you." The green-haired man added a third finger and purposefully hit every spot _but_ the one that would make the other man see stars.

Bruce groaned and pushed down trying to get Joker to hit him _there_. "I want you inside me, _fuck me_!"

He removed his fingers. "Any time, Batsy, all you have to do is ask!" The criminal lifted Bruce's leg over his shoulder and positioned himself against his body. "I want to see your face. It'll hurt a little more this way but I didn't think you'd mind." A hint of his usual insane giggle seeped through.

The millionaire shook his head and parroted the other man, "fuck me like this." Another jolt of pleasure shot through him at the thought of being _fucked_ by the Joker. Bruce put his arms behind his head and waited.

"You're ready Batsy, it'll be good, promise," the clown pressed in with a hiss.

"_Ohh_, fuck, fuck." Bruce's back arched up almost unnaturally and his head went fuzzy. The penetration stung but it was so satisfying to be filled up.

"Yea, that's it." Joker rocked forward slowly. "You're so tight, so good." He kissed the bent knee over his left shoulder and slapped Bruce's thigh with his gloved hand.

"Faster," Batman rasped out and threw his head to the side. "I'm not a woman, Joker, fuck me faster."

"Hahaha, you're so perfect Batsy. Just. Perfect." Joker ground his hips down faster and watch himself fuck his favorite superhero. Batman's body swallowed him so readily. "Hmm, you're such a good fuck."

Bruce was breathless, "yes, yes." Joker stabbed his prostate and Bruce cried out, "Aha, there, _do that again_." He rotated his hips and met Jokers deep, rough thrusts that managed to hit him in the right spot again and again. "Guhnnn, Joker, ah…"

"Look at me," the clown said with a shaky breath. "Want to watch you cum, look at me." For a moment Jokers voice took on a dark tone.

Bruce looked up at the Joker with lidded eyes and his mouth parted in a slack "O".

Joker reached down and fisted the millionaire's hard cock with a slick hand. His pace was maddeningly quick and relentless. "Cum for me; cum with me inside you Batsy." Jokers' thrusting was becoming erratic and frantic. His orgasm was burning up his spine and spreading throughout his limbs.

"Gnnnl, close, Joker I'm—"

"Yes, yes, me too!"

Joker continued to pump into Bruce's willing body as him orgasm washed through him and the millionaire bent into a ridged arch as his cum splashed up his chest. The men cried out and their moans were just as tangled as their bodies.

Still inside the other man Joker slumped forward and folded Bruce's body as he collapsed. "Bruce, I think you broke me."

The millionaire grunted in response and tried to catch his breath. He thought about making some comment in regards to being broken himself with Joker still buried balls deep inside him, but didn't have the energy to say anything.

"I'm going to pull out now," Joker said sounding exhausted and brought his hips back enough to slip away from the other man's vice-like ass. With that the clown fell back onto the mattress next to the man behind the cowl.

Bruce lay unceremoniously with his legs open and bent at the knees, his chest was heaving and his body was glossy from sweat and semen. He looked utterly wrecked.

"You look good like this, all fucked out." Joker said with a smile and propped himself up on one elbow.

The two men gave each other a long glance. They didn't say anything. What could they say? The mood wasn't awkward, however. They were too exhausted to be awkward.

"What now?" Joker asked in a small voice that teetered between insane and humble.

Bruce sighed and rubbed his eyes. "We'll talk about it tomorrow."

* * *

THANK YOU


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